Zugzwang
by EmmanuelleG
Summary: The Avengers are not what they used to be, and the war is becoming more violent by the minute. Jane Foster is forced in the middle of the chaos. She becomes a quite valued resource which S.H.I.E.L.D is desperate to keep, and the opposite camp to possess.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It was a game of chess.

Everything was about strategy, and so far some of their major pieces had fallen.

The battle that had taken place in New York was a blessed curse. It had considerably slowed down Loki's army, but in the process stolen some of their best fighters. Steve Rogers along with Natasha Romanoff had been captured.

The province of Blekinge was a forgotten place, but news made their way even there.

When S.H.I.E.L.D had decided to move her to a remote, however safe, location, Jane had objected. Now, she was profoundly glad that Agent Coulson had carelessly ordered his men to toss whatever equipment she might need in the organization's jet, and forced her hand to climb inside afterwards.

Safety could never be overrated.

What did it matter where she studied the theory of the Einstein-Rosen bridge ? The sky was the same everywhere, and all the data she needed had been freely granted to her.

But there was Thor.

_Thor_.

Honest, candid Thor who would specifically request to arrive in New Mexico just to find that she had disappeared. Unfortunately, knowing S.H.I.E.L.D, it was likely they would play the deaf and blind card. A deity, if one could call him thus, of the sort was a huge asset – they wouldn't want his attention to wander.

Jane swallowed and reached for her cup of coffee. The supplies had begun to run low. Soon she would have to make a call, and inform whoever was watching after them of the situation.

Only she wasn't all that certain that there were still people performing the task of noting down her every move.

There was Darcy, of course there was Darcy – faithful, and not all that sarcastic anymore. Her spirit had seemed unbreakable to her back then, but now she was just like everybody else : frail and empty-eyed with fear. She couldn't be blamed.

Loki hadn't reached Europe. Yet, that is. And though the governments were trying to more or less calm down the population by concealing information, _they_ had a very special insight.

As a matter of fact, they had been urged by S.H.I.E.L.D to continue Erik Selvig's work on the tesseract. All his research had been sent to them, all the possible equipment given – except the very thing they were supposed to study.

Fury had remained vague upon direct contact, but it soon became evident that they had lost their main weapon. Their one valuable token.

"I just need you to find a way to shut this thing down if possible, Miss Foster," he had said.

Difficult to do when said object wasn't in reach. Photographs and countless video segments weren't at all enough.

Jane sighed, leaning on the counter, and brought her hands up to cover her face. How long until chaos entered Sweden as well ? How long until people started falling down, still warm but dead, like mere flies ? Everyone knew of Loki's exploit in Germany. The countries around trembled silently.

The door gently hit the wall, and she turned around to see Darcy. The younger woman was smiling at her – it was a weary, tired grin there only to dissipate the tension. Jane pretended to smile back. It seemed like that's all they ever did now : pretending.

"I still cannot find a pattern in that _other _thunderstorm," she murmured. "It's very different from the one in New Mexico."

They both avoided Thor's name.

Her heart was in her throat when she answered, "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I'll take another look in a minute."

Nodding, Darcy disappeared once again. S.H.I.E.L.D had sent them the data concerning Thor's second arrival on Earth – or Midgard as he called it – in the hopes of aiding her research of travel between the worlds. It could come in hand, had been their explanation. Especially now. She wholeheartedly agreed. If there was a way to simply make Loki vanish to Asgard, she wanted to be the one to discover it.

But so far all she had come up with were nonsensical theories. Was the scientific community to read but a page of her work, it would surely laugh in her face. How one was supposed to make a variable out of something which didn't exist ? How was one to convert magic into mathematics ? For the tesseract was just that – pure, crystal clear magic. Immensely powerful, that much was true, and somewhat measurable – but magic still.

She had heard of Loki's portal. Tony Stark had almost sacrificed himself in order to close the one in New York, only to find out that the God of Mischief had reopened a new one a few kilometres away some months later.

He really seemed determined to take that very city down.

Perhaps, it had something to do with Thor being nearby.

She chuckled. Of course. It had _everything_ to do with his brother being close.

The telephone rang, and her heart stopped for an instant. Nobody ever called them. This was not part of the protocol. All communications were kept at a minimum so no one could trace back to them – _and now the phone was ringing_. It could be as much a bad omen as joyous news.

Shakily, Jane made her way to it only to find Darcy already waiting for her to pick it up. They shared a look, Darcy nodded, and at last she pressed the device against her ear.

"Yes ?" Jane murmured into the handset.

"Miss Foster."

The voice at the other end was cold, calculated, and unreasonably calm.

Nick Fury.

She rubbed her eyes, leaning against the wall for support.

"Hello, director," she answered. "We're listening. What is it ?"

With the speaker on, Darcy and she listened to what he said, drinking in every word of his in an attempt to draw some comfort or reassurance, but to no avail. It hadn't been clear as to why – Fury never was keen on revealing important details when it came to her – buy Europe was not longer a secure zone. When Jane asked if that meant that they were being moved to another location, Fury simply sighed.

"Yes Miss Foster, but it isn't any better."

Jane frowned. "What do you mean ?" Next to her, Darcy allowed a cough to escape as a reminder of her presence.

"Miss Foster..."

She could almost see him looking around as he searched for the right way to tell her what he needed to. It was so atypical of the man, but apparently he had learned of the temper tantrum she had thrown when the organization had seized her assets. Perhaps, they could not afford her refusal.

Well, that surely elevated her to a whole new pedestal.

"Just call me Jane," she quickly mumbled upon realization that the reception was getting worse.

"We need that portal shut down, Jane."

She blinked a few time and rubbed her eyes. "I'm working on it, director, but you have to understand that it's difficult to figure out a manual to something I have never seen, never touched-"

Instantly, at the other end, Fury snapped. "We don't have the time to argue. A team will be sent for you. You will be taken back to the States to continue your work on the cube, and Miss Lewis moved to a S.H.I.E.L.D's safe house. Fury out."

It had been akin to a slap in the face. The moment the line went dead, she felt Darcy's hand wrapping around her wrist in a painful fashion.

"Don't leave me," she whispered so quietly that the sole indication she spoke at all had been her moving lips. "I'm already loosing my mind here, alone, just with you. I don't want to go somewhere where I don't know anyone !

Jane gripped her hands back, squeezed them, tried to smile despite the fact that she wanted to weep.

"I promise I'll do everything I can," she desperately murmured back. "I promise, Darcy."

After the news of what had happened to Erik, neither of them had been the same.

Later, however, when she was locked in her room with her forehead pressed against the wall, Jane knew that she had blatantly lied. It had been an empty guarantee, a fool's commitment to a cause never to be won. She wished to cry, to scream her lungs out, but someone had to be the strong one.

When Darcy called out from the hall to enquire if she had started packing, she replied with a falsely neutral tone that yes indeed even if all she had been doing for the past hour had been staring at the drawing of the Yggdrasil Thor had left her with.

* * *

"Hello, ladies."

Tony Stark's cheerful demeanour was entirely out of place given the circumstances, but somehow no one seemed to mind. His sarcastic remarks and jokes were a welcomed relief; it eased the air around them considerably, and at once they could breathe again.

Jane had seen the man once or twice before, always from afar, never near enough to notice just how sophisticated his armour was, what genius craftsmanship it had required. At once, she almost felt like a privileged member of the organization if the Iron Man himself was there to escort her back to America.

Darcy seemed to share her enthusiasm, leering at him and every so often throwing not all that subtle smiles in his direction.

"Stop it," she told her.

Darcy rolled her eyes. Any other time, Jane would have been annoyed, but now she wished to laugh, to smile anew. For a mere moment, a short instant, the younger woman was back to her old self; gone was the empty shell of a girl she had become. Perhaps, there was hope for all of them.

"Ah, you'll be heading that way."

Stark suddenly appeared next to them, blocking Darcy's way with his hand and pointing at a huge, black van some meters away. An agent was already standing next to it, just waiting to open the door for the new passenger.

"You're staying in Europe," he explained the silent question. "See, apart from Germany Loki hasn't had the time to fuck things up around here."

"Oh," Darcy mouthed.

Tony Stark gave her a wide smile. "Cheer up, kiddo. Sweden might not be as quiet as it used to, but we still have places on this continent where to move you to. You'll be fine."

It was no consolation. Jane had long understood that she would have preferred the chaos of New York to the safe solitude of Europe. Being alone never did wonders for anyone.

She promised her things she didn't know how she was going to be able to accomplish; hugged her one too many times; asked Stark again and over if perhaps S.H.I.E.L.D would be willing to reconsider its decision. Of course, the answer had been negative no matter how many times she put the question up for consideration.

Jane didn't really know why she had even bothered pleading.

When the van was gone, taking her intern along, she was once again approached by Tony. He was an imposing image to take in, but doubtlessly a fascinating one for the scientific eye.

"So, here's the deal," he began as he walked her to the special jet.

Jane nodded. Inside, he sat next to her even though he probably would have preferred jumping out of the plane to fly on his own. He was genuinely kind, if not by times cynical, and there were instants when everything felt so normal it hurt.

"So," she shook her head, "you're telling me that I won't be working alone ?"

"Exactly. You and Dr. Banner will be the head of the research team. You'll have all the men and women you require to run tests and simulations for you, as well as," Tony formed a fist and hit himself in the chest a few times, "yours truly. I have to admit that I hate this thing, but it holds so much potential."

"Dr. Banner ?" Jane repeated. "The gamma radiation specialist ?"

"Yeah, Mr. Jolly Green Giant himself."

She laughed a little. "Well, I wouldn't call him that..."

Stark smiled back. "But I will. Listen now." And for the first time since she met him, he became serious. "We're going to Stockholm. From there, you'll be flied directly to New York. It isn't safe, and it's certainly not as quiet as Blekinge. We're okay at keeping the Chitauri at a distance, but you will constantly be at risk. You'll be protected," there he made a vague sign with his hand, cutting through the air, "but you always have to be ready to run."

"I understand," Jane breathed.

Tony was already on his feet by now with his helmet down, heading for the door to jump outside.

"Oh, and one more thing, Jane."

Being around him was so nice. She could see why he was referred to as a jerk – for indeed he had not much regard for certain individuals – but there was something deeply pleasant about him. And relaxing, especially relaxing. An aura of reassurance, it was; something she could almost reach out and graze with the very tips of her fingers.

With the helmet on, his voice sounded different, it had an artificial edge to it. It was probably because she heard him through speakers, Jane thought.

"If it comes to it, destroy everything. We don't want Loki to have it."

"Perfect," she once more numbly replied.

What an odd word. It seemed out of context, it did not belong in their world. The irony of it was striking, it affected with an almost physical pain.

Amidst the bedlam of New York, there was still a precious something to go back to. Something worth risking her life for.

She didn't know if S.H.I.E.L.D was going to allow her to see him. She didn't even know if she would get news of the Avengers initiative, or what they were up to now that two of their members had become Loki's prisoners. But somehow, it didn't really matter for the time being.

She was going back to Thor.

* * *

"No, I insist after you," Tony exaggerated as he held the door open for her.

Jane lightly laughed. It was a strange, alien sensation that was good; it spread warmth throughout her body, making her feel a little more alive.

There was no time to relax as she was immediately rushed to another plane. It was a lot bigger, and appeared to even be armed though she wasn't sure. The insides could be compared to rooms at a chic hotel, and it did feel strange that S.H.I.E.L.D could be bothered with luxury at a time such as this.

Maybe, it was an older craft designed specifically for long voyages.

Yes, it had to be it.

Tony hadn't followed her inside, merely waved a quick goodbye as he had secured the doors. Moments later, she heard his armour being activated. By this time, he was probably already flying around, making sure the departing perimeter was secure.

Apparently, radars weren't all that trustworthy anymore.

For the first time since her ushering out of Blekinge, Jane allowed her head to loll back and hit the soft seat. Her eyes closed and she tried to calm down her heartbeat. At this rate, she was going to collapse dead even before she arrived to America.

Working with Banner was an opportunity, a real privilege. If this war had given her something other than sorrow and animal fear, it was the chance to meet up with some of the greatest minds of this word. Her tongue still ached to ask Tony too many questions to be polite about the design of his suit. For it truly was a one of a kind invention.

There was no music, instead utter silence filled the plane even as she felt the engines being turned on. They sounded almost distant. This was an interesting achievement as well.

But the she heard something else.

The door had been jerked open. It hit the sides of the plane so forcefully some of the white paint came off, and slight cracks appeared.

Jane had rushed outside but failed to see who had done it.

And no one was telling her to get back. Not even the pilot.

"Tony !" she yelled. "Tony !"

Sounds of metal scrapping against metal, howls, and distant mutterings.

"Tony !" she tried again, this time definitely running away from the plane.

Her head felt heavy, thoughts of all kinds hitting her from all directions. When she looked down, she noticed that the pavement had been damaged. Something sufficiently heavy and sharp had somehow managed to destroy parts of it.

And there it was again – sounds of struggle but no sight of it.

Jane ran to the front of the plane where the noise seemed to be coming from. There, she saw it. Pinned on the ground, was a creature she had never seen before. It was partly dressed in a gold attire which she deducted to be meant for protection, and was inhumanely tall. Still, Tony was dominating it.

The screech it emitted as he ran some sort of metal bar through its chest froze the blood in her veins. Jane staggered backwards, hands over her mouth, eyes watery and her entire body trembling.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God_, was all she could think of. The thing twitched a few more times before definitely falling dead. It didn't leak a single drop of blood even as she insistently stared at the pierced wound.

However, there was something wrong about the picture.

Tony was by her side, and he was speaking. He had even seized her shoulder to force her to look at him. But all Jane could do was stare at the scarlet drops next to the corpse.

"Blood," she whispered. "There's blood."

"Get back inside, Jane," Tony snapped.

He had no visible signs of injury. Then where did the droplets come from ? The only people around excluding herself and the Iron Man were the pilots.

Oh Lord, the pilots.

Seemingly, she had spoken her thoughts aloud as Tony became even more grim and insistently pushed her towards the plane with even more ardour.

"Come with me," he told her.

Jane nodded with haste. Anything to keep her mind to going back to the scene she had witnessed.

"That was a Chitauri," he said as he made his way to the flight deck.

"Ah," was her short reply.

The men inside were unconscious, or so it appeared. One was on the floor, while the second had fallen face first onto the control panel. Tony was almost heedless in his actions as he pushed the pilot away, checking his pulse beforehand and then allowing him to fall next to his colleague. The seat was now his to take.

"This one looks so pale," she mumbled as she knelt next to the man she had first spotted.

"Jane."

She didn't listen. The classes of basic medical training she had taken years ago came back to her in what was a haze of confusion. Slowly, she took his left wrist and pressed two fingers to the pulse point. But she couldn't discern her heartbeat from his.

"Shit," she growled, going for the neck instead.

It proved a little difficult to turn his body to face her as he was tall and well-built. Again, there was nothing to be found.

Realization descended upon her heavily, and most mercilessly. She began to sob as she understood that his black shirt was not damp with sweat – damp wasn't even the right word, soaking wet war a far more accurate description. The metallic stench of blood made her nauseous, she turned away and pressed a hand against her mouth, desperate not to allow the contents of her stomach to escape.

"Jane."

This time, Tony's voice was softer, sympathetic. She glanced over at him, and saw that he was signalling her to take the place next to him.

"I-I don't understand," Jane stammered.

"Just sit down," he said.

He was perfectly able to operate the great craft on his own. Sometime, he would mutter a quick 'check' and move on to another task. She, on the other hand, could but stare outside. The two dead men were lying just inches away from her, their presence haunting, heavy, accusing.

Tony had been protecting her. This, Jane now comprehended. The fact that she had found the door open but no one on the other side meant that he had intercepted the Chitauri before it entered the plane to get her. Just instants before, the pilots had been killed. Instead of rushing to their aid – and possibly do something – he had opted to defend her.

On some level, their blood was on her hands.

At the thought, Jane began to cry anew.

"Calm down," Tony told her. "Calm down, it's not your fault. Calm down, _now_."

The last command seemed to do it, and she pulled herself up together. There was no use in wallowing in self-pity, it wouldn't help them or her.

Then, something odd occurred. For a mere second, she felt as though invisible hands pushed her into the seat. She was constricted, barely able to move or even breathe. But it quickly passed, the sensation vanished, and on the horizon there was a new sight to observe.

A blue light, going up in a straight line, had appeared. Where it touched the sky, the clouds were darker, almost as though a thunderstorm was to begin. Before she even had the time to ask, Jane heard Tony curse loudly.

"That son of a bitch !" he screamed.

"What-"

"Hold tight."

They were flying before she knew it. Jane gripped onto whatever she could as per instruction, her heart painfully clashing against her ribcage, threatening to rip through it. Tony was still cursing, but at this point she could no longer hear him. The only audible sound was the blood in her ears.

He was manoeuvring the plane as though this was a video game, and if she hadn't known just what he was capable of, Jane would have started praying. They were gaining altitude and distance from the blue light. Despite herself, she turned left to get a better view of it. There wasn't much to see on the ground, as everything became smaller by the minute, but as she pressed her eyes together she detailed a figure down there. The person held what appeared to be a long stick in his hands from which the power source originated.

Understanding slapped her hard across the face.

"Loki," Jane hammered.

Next to her, Tony snickered. "Allow me to introduce you to the life of the party."

* * *

Voila.

I've always thought that Jane/Loki is more interesting than Jane/Thor. Don't get me wrong, I love Thor, but he is so _simple_. There is no mystery to him, nothing to play with. He is your typical hero who found redemption, love, and success (well, as far as the movies are concerned – because that's what I'm going by, that and later on some Norse mythology). Jane and Loki are similar. They're both very smart, very analytical. They seek things beyond their worlds. I could go on and on, but I think you get the point !

Remember, feedback is love and cookies :)


	2. Chapter 2

Don't get excited ! This is simply a rewrite of the second part of this chapter. I strongly recommend you read it, as I have made some major changes. And overall it's more interesting. I remember reading it again and thinking to myself : "Meeh, I can do so much better." So here is the result !

* * *

**Chapter 2**

New York smelled of blood and dust.

The scent bit at her clothes, ardently refusing to vanish even as she hid in the very back of S.H.I.E.L.D's car, avoiding with all possible might the slightly opened window at the front. Tony had left, promising that they would soon run into each other at the base.

Without him, she felt lost.

The glum driver didn't do much to appease her worries. As a matter of fact, he didn't look even remotely interested in throwing a word or two of reassurance, support, plain acknowledgement in her direction. On some level, Jane understood him. Getting through the city was their primary goal; one they had to put all energy into. Tony Stark had flown forward to clear the way, however he was but one man and trouble could materialize from more than the direction he was guarding. From what she had gathered, the headquarters were located at the farthest point from the portal. Making their way through tones of debris, bodies that no one had bothered giving proper burial to, and Chitauri soldiers was a task which required master skills.

The aliens were like pawns. Every time Tony shot one from the sky, another stepped forward to take the fallen's place. They were expendable, their lives not at all valued. Like ants, they kept resurfacing from crevices between the buildings, pouring onto the streets and charging forward with their staffs. One had actually succeeded in hitting the car, and now the vehicle was painfully whimpering.

"That seems to be all for now, hit the gas," she heard Tony's voice through the transmitter he had left them with.

The agent reached for it and dropped the device into his lap. Letting go of the wheel wasn't an option.

"Acknowledged," he replied loudly, raising his voice so that the Iron Man could make out anything at all of his sayings.

Another thing she had quickly come to know was that communications were jammed here. It had something to do with the portal. The blue light, that unknown power source, drained everything it could. It fed on energy. S.H.I.E.L.D alone seemed to somehow be able to resist it to an extent, hiding underground and behind great absorbers of their own. Great perhaps, but not entirely effective.

_It will have to do for now_, had been Stark's remark. _Until I find the time to come up with something._

Fury was right, the portal had to be closed.

She had tried questioning the silent man about Thor,knew with every cell of her body that it was a bad move, but couldn't help herself. Jane wisely omitted mentioning that the person in question was a God of some sort, but in the end it didn't even matter. All she got were clipped answers, muttered through pursed lips.

"You will have to ask Director Fury," he had said.

It wasn't an alternative she was looking forward to, for it was certain to grant her even more nothingness. The last few months had been enough to cause a crack in the vase of her sanity. More vacuum, empty explanations, and constant orders were bound to eventually lead to a breakdown.

When the car came to a halt and her door slammed open, Jane couldn't help but hesitate. All there was to be seen was a half-demolished old building with no indications whatsoever of living arrangements. Much less scientific ones. She had supposed there would be some kind of more or less obvious entry, but nothing of the sort was present. The Sweden division had been far more impressive – and it had been underground as well.

The man told her to follow him, and Jane complied all-too gladly. At this point, she would have done anything to get away from the disturbing smell and desolating sight. She thought she heard someone cry out, but Tony had assured her hours ago that all civilians had been evacuated.

Perhaps, it was a lie designed for her comfort. She didn't know and didn't dare wandering away from the man. The latter had adjusted the transmitter so it was now on S.H.I.E.L.D's frequency, and was talking with rapid urgency. Her eyes locked on his lips, and she tried to figure out what he was saying but with no real luck. Sounds she could not understand kept coming in waves from all directions, overwhelming her mind and adding concentrated fear to her blood. She was hyperventilating.

When one watched movies depicting war and its horrors, the simple thought that the same scenario could happen to them all in this day and age never was given any thought. Now that she was faced with the reality of a half-destroyed world where the stench of blood was as natural as oxygen, Jane was afraid. It was that pure sort of fright which immobilized, rendered one as useless as a rag doll, and stripped from talents and abilities.

Like a child, she followed the agent. She wished to rip the transmitter from his hand, find Tony's frequency anew and yell for the Iron Man to come back.

_Thor, Tony, Thor..._She wanted the man in the great suit and the God with his mystical hammer to magically appear by her side. She wanted to be back in Sweden, longed for the dull existence of Blekinge, wished for Thor to be the one to get her there and _stay_.

How Tony kept on joking and smiling, Jane did not know. New York hadn't seem near as bad when he had described it to her.

In reality, it was Hell.

The man led her to the old building and once inside, closed the heavy iron door behind them. After making sure they were secure, he proceeded to run a hand along the bricks of the nearest wall.

It was like being in a spy movie but instead of being part of the audience, she was the one on the screen at whom all gawked. One brick suddenly began moving. It slowly twirled around, revealing a small panel no bigger than the palm of her hand on its previously concealed side. The series of numbers and symbols did not light up, and he seemed to enter the code relying on haptic memory alone.

The portal really was feeding on everything it could find.

Part of the wall slid to the side, revealing a brightly illuminated, empty hallway. She was immediately ushered inside. The light was a welcomed alternative to the otherwise powerless city. It screamed of strength and possibilities. S.H.I.E.L.D's cat was still in the bag and, from the looks of it, seemed quite alive.

The passage soon came to an end. For God knew what time, Jane was again left to gaze around and wait while her companion talked into the two-way radio which was the only thing on those shiny, metallic walls. The voice which answered him belonged to someone she did not recognize, but without a doubt a woman. It was harsh, quick, and commanding.

Jane supposed it was the only right tone given the circumstances.

"It will take a moment."

The fact that he had spoken _at all_ startled her. She nodded. His eyes were on the steel facade ahead; Jane followed them with her own. From the other side, faint noises of mechanisms operating and gears rotating made their way to them. Then there was a rush of compressed heavy air, subdued at first but quickly taking on the form of a moderate breeze which sent her hair flying.

At last, she saw a pair of hands, then a second one, closely followed by a third. The door had unlocked, but refused to allow the newcomers to enter. Sighs of frustration and curses reached them without a problem through the small crack which became wider by the instant. Soon, they were greeted by a tall woman in uniform.

"Miss Foster," she told her, lightly bowing her head. "Welcome."

"Hello," Jane managed to murmur back. "I-"

However, the woman cut her off. "I am Agent Maria Hill, please follow us."

As on cue, the man stepped inside and they both proceeded walking away. For a moment, Jane was lost, didn't know what to do until the previously spoken command sank deep into her brain, and she took a hesitant step forward.

"Gray, talk to me," she heard the woman say.

The following rapport she, howbeit, didn't manage to fully understand. Casualties among the Chitauri they had encountered had been related, and she did think she understood the man saying something about the main road but it wasn't clear. They were speaking in technical, military jargon. Finally, Jane gave up.

She could distantly see the outlines of the panels of the elevators, but none of them seemed to be operational. There was an apparent layer of dust and dirt along them, suggesting that they hadn't been touched in a while. But they were still going a level down, and for that Hill was swiftly walking them to a door behind which was a staircase.

"We've constructed a hydraulic lift, but it is used only to transport equipment," she explained, not failing to read the curiosity in Jane's eyes.

The descent was quick. The level they arrived on was dimly lit and the scent of chemicals immediately overwhelmed her. Were they heading directly to the lab ? Was she to continue her research _now _? Her head was spinning, and a dull throbbing was manifesting itself at the back of her skull. She almost opened her mouth to ask for some painkillers, but decided against it.

For Heaven's sake, they had trouble opening the main door to the headquarters, her headache was below the last thing on their list of priorities.

"I will escort you to your quarters," Hill told her once they've lost the other agent – Gray, her mind supplied – who had left them on the previous floor. "You have to rest."

"Yes," Jane smiled a little. "It was a...tiring journey."

The attempt at conversation failed, and the heavy iron curtain of silence fell between them. She didn't bother asking about Thor or even Fury. In the state she was, it was understandable that the Director didn't wish to see her. And she didn't particularly like the thought of Thor laying eyes upon her while she looked like a war veteran.

This was for the best.

Hill showed her how to lock and unlock the door to her rooms. It required a magnetic card which she shoved into a two-side reader.

_The advantage of it_, the woman had said, _is that if it comes to it, you can lock yourself in and will even have the time to make it to the rails of the subway before this door is forced open. _

So yeah, Jane thought, she also had an emergency exit out of the base which was a tad more difficult to open.

When Hill left, Jane allowed herself to collapse onto the bed. The place reminded her of the numerous ones she had occupied while a kid in summer camps. The walls were as dull as the floor; as a matter of fact, the whole place was heartbreakingly depressing.

But for the time being, it didn't matter. She was safe.

The chemicals had taken over the smell of dust and blood which had welcomed her to New York, and attached itself to her clothing. Either they no longer stunk or her nose was stuffed – but it was unimportant. All that mattered was that there were no alien monsters rushing forward to kill her, and no phantom cries for help which had haunted her for hours.

Silence had never been so delicious.

Jane fell asleep still fully clothed, with greasy hair, and a shirt stained with dry blood. The magnetic card she had pressed to her chest, hugging it closer even as consciousness started to slip away.

* * *

"Attempt number one. The experimental energy probe of project Pomerium is about to be deployed. Let the record show that no previous scientific attempts to determine the safety of the procedure have been made."

The recorder died as a button was pushed.

"Let's get this over with," Jane sighed.

Bruce Banner was a genius. Not only did he have a beautiful, mathematical mind, but he also was the only one around remaining perfectly calm no matter the situation. He was a role-model of sorts. People needed to see that despite how bad things were, the head of the scientific research concerning the tesseract and an Avenger as well, did not panic.

It inspired trust in a possible victory.

They had been working on a prototype of the cube for the past three weeks, attempting to recreate a model similar in all technical ways to the one S.H.I.E.L.D had lost. Of course, they weren't talking about replicating its power – that much was impossible. The main plan was to find a way to produce something analogous and then shut it off.

If they were to find how to create energy similar to the one the cube was full of, they could use it against it. Turn the tables on the rival with false declarations of power. Sometimes a lie, a handful of sand thrown in one's eyes, could be just the necessary last push to break through the iron wall of prison. It could mayhap even become as much a destructive weapon; possibly affect the portals and diminish the tesseract's effect. Not by a lot, but just enough to make it a wee weaker so they could take the upper-hand in the war.

But then again, maybe she was looking just a bit too much on the bright side. Accepting even the prospect of defeat was a caustic task.

Aside from the dismal and dreary surroundings of the lower level of the headquarters, there was nothing for her to see. Like a prized horse, she had been confined to the laboratory and her room, making slow trips from one to another as days leisurely dragged by. Upon questioning Agent Hill as to why she was being treated like an enemy of the state, Jane had received the answer that it was for maximum security. All the scientists and lead specialists with whom Dr. Erik Selvig had cooperated, hadn't returned to the project.

A fair – gruesome – amount hadn't passed the necessary debriefing upon being grudgingly released from Loki's grip. Some had remained behind.

He had been her mentor; had shared information for which she could have been incarcerated, and he locked away for a long time. It was only fair that she was now to follow in his footsteps. And for fate to not play the same trick on them twice, she was being guarded better than the president.

Of Erik Selvig not a soul ever spoke. At least, not to her. His persona was a closed matter. He had returned, but never made it to them. He knew too much and had been affected like no one else.

It pained her, but he was alive. She couldn't ask for more.

Bruce Banner tossed her the protective glasses.

He was a man of composed character and quiet, most pleasant demeanour. Around him, she felt calm. It was just too-easy to forget that beneath that skin of his – skin so identical to her own – was blood that if filled with an ounce of irritation too much could turn him into an uncontrollable creature. And only Tony Stark's continual quips and less than delicate assertions reminded her to keep her guard up at all times.

Jane slid the goggles down her forehead, finding them a nice place to sit on top of her nose. Dr. Banner was behind the safe glass, activating the reactor which powered the engines switch by switch. On her end, she made sure the screws Tony had had trouble keeping in place a few days ago hadn't budged.

As their own mechanical monsters were gently being energized, she brought her hands up to cover her ears. The amount of work to produce the charge they were about to sent flying into Loki's portal was enormous; everything around had begun buzzing. It was slightly deafening, and certainly disconcerting. Eyes slightly shut, she made her way to the back of the lab.

"Ready ?" Banner asked with a tired smile.

"No," she retorted feebly, nerves having fed on the last strands of her sanity, "but it doesn't matter. Or does it ?"

"No, you're right. It does not," he answered.

Their power source was colourless, and overall physically extremely different from the tesseract. They had converted some apparatuses to draw sustenance from radioactive elements with the incorporation of gamma radiation. So far, they had been able to reduce to dust a large pile of metallic debris pieces of which had been brought to the lab from all the corners of the headquarters.

Now, they were about to attempt to blow up something they didn't even understand.

With the aid of Tony, who worked faster than the wind, a special pipe tunnel had been laid through the subway tunnels and to the portal. A camera, which was to detail the events of the experiment, had also been installed nearby. Why S.H.I.E.L.D had bothered with it, Jane couldn't fathom. Even if they were to be successful on a small scale, the resulting surge of energy would surely blow up everything on an estimated perimeter of a few kilometres. Then again, it wasn't her place to comment on decisions such as this one.

Her hands grew moist, and she kept wiping them against her white coat. All calculations had been made with extreme care; developed by Banner and herself, verified by Tony, and then gone through again by the three of them. Even so, she couldn't help but be a nervous wreck. One mishap and they could be sent flying into the air – and it wouldn't even be Loki's doing.

"Alright," Banner cracked his fingers, rubbed his neck, paced around a little, and finally settled before the console. "Shall we ?"

Jane shook her head with desperate urgency. A bit more and she would loose her mind, run away, declare this whole operation a lunatic's fantasy, cry that not enough time had been granted to guarantee success. Therefore, she had to give her accord now.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Let's do it."

"Wait."

His hand caught hers in a grip of violent exigency, seconds before the operational lever was to be seized to allow the power flow to flood the conduits. His face bore the expression of a man deranged, thrust out of his element and left with nothing but nature's gifts for defence.

"What is it ?" Jane whispered, carefully undoing the steel fingers which with passionate ardour refused to let go of her wrist. "What's wrong ?"

"Did you hear this ?" he asked her.

She shook her head. Aside from the continuous artificial humming which enveloped the laboratory day and night, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary.

"There's nothing." She caught him by the shoulders, her efforts to break his concentration impotent and passive. "Bruce, tell me what's wrong. Snap out of it !"

All this time, he had been listening. Listening and, more importantly, understanding something she so obviously hadn't got wind of. With gentleness atypical for the moment, he shook her off before heading for the doors.

Ah, the doors.

Those were always sealed with absolute care, and only the authorized personnel was admitted to step through their threshold. It was undoubtedly the sole place to which S.H.I.E.L.D granted all the energy it required – and even more. Never the mind that supplies were perishing and malfunctions leading to minor, sometimes even moderate, casualties – the doors were to remain shut at all times. The heavy, metallic giants were a courtesy of Stark Industries. Equipped with mounted noise absorbers and acoustical louvers, they stretched beyond the size of a normal entryway. Their general facade suggested the structure to be a wall more than anything else.

If things were to go _extremely_ bad, the scientists were sure to have enough time, barricaded inside, to destroy their research.

Now, Bruce had left her side and was typing the code into the wall-integrated security panel to get out.

It was then that she heard it.

Like an annoying bug, a siren was wailing. Its alarm was high-pitched a moment and low, barely audible whistle a short while after. People were running past the laboratory, some with clear purpose in their eyes while others, disoriented and lost, sought out the heads of their divisions.

"Wait !" she yelled after Banner. "Wait ! Where are you going ?"

By the looks of it, their experiment wasn't going to see the light today.

Like mad, Jane punched the buttons of the computer, aborting the programs. The demanded codes, confirmations, and proof of who she was gave her a headache and when she could no longer take it, she violently snatched out the cable alimenting the laptop. Without the central control piece, nothing could be commenced.

Her heart threatened to fracture her ribs, her breath turned into a frantic panting as she rushed past the contained personnel. Had they been taught by S.H.I.E.L.D to linger in an unnerving state of perfect composure even as red lights, omens of something grave, flashed above their heads ? Some seemed confused – but there was no fright to be detected.

Amongst them, Jane felt like an intruder.

"Bruce !" The man was within reach now. "Bruce, dammit, wait !" There. Her nails dug into the skin of his palm. "Where are you going ? What's going on ?"

Questions spilled out of her like water from a cracked jug.

"...to your room."

He was pressing her against the wall, forcing her chin up.

"...can be dangerous...now !"

Wait, had she locked the doors ? Jane's brows met in painful concentration.

Ah, yes. She indeed had.

Bruce was still talking, eyes darting from one corner to the other, never quite settling on her. She shook her head again, hands up before his face as she drew words in the air.

"I can't hear you !" Jane screamed, her lips tracing each and every word with pristine care. "The alarm's too loud !"

The systems had gone mad. If something was able to breakdown, it did. From the corner of the eye, she saw a young man being hit by an electric discharge coming from a teared wire. He seized like mad and dropped to the floor.

Banner gave her a new look full of disapproval as she made way to follow him. He pointed in the direction of the nearest hallway leading to her quarters, and in response Jane ardently declined as best as she could without actually speaking. No. There was no way in Hell she was going back now.

"I have the right to know !" she shouted, her voice lost as soon as it passed her lips.

She thought she saw him shrugging, but perhaps it was simply her vision playing tricks on her.

Jane had never been to the conference hall. It was an area of great proportions with giant screens which were now disabled. In the middle of it, the Avengers – or what was left of them – stood. They'd assembled in a circle to observe a figure parading in its centre. She could clearly see Tony, in his armour taller than most and a sight to behold; Clint Barton whom she but once bumped into; and someone who had lived in her memory alone up until now.

"Thor," she whispered, "_Thor_."

Bruce took her hand, gave it a light squeeze, and pressed one finger to his lips in an indication to stay silent. She felt like a kid being escorted to the rest of the class, an outcast of sorts. What was it about S.H.I.E.L.D that made her experience childhood's lack of power all anew ?

The group's concentration hadn't been broken by their arrival. As a matter of fact, no one seemed to notice them creeping closer and freezing by Barton.

"There is no heroism or logic in fighting for a cause you know lost."

That voice, she did not know. Jane got up on her toes, using Banner's shoulder for support.

There, surrounded by people who could crush anyone else, was Loki. She had seen him on the news; headlines such as THREAT FROM OUTER SPACE and NEW YORK'S TYRANT following his image on every channel. In person, he was tall and crazed of expression; so utterly different from Thor. There wasn't an ounce of his brother to be found in him.

He had an aura of arrogance with his head jerked up high, and hands folded behind the back, but still retained an air of dignified, cold intelligence as he spoke.

"You have to abandon this illusion you are living," he was saying. "There is nothing for you to win but blood, and cries for help. Or is martyrdom so highly valued by you Midgardians that you wish to sacrifice millions so one alone could be remembered," at those words he turned to face Nick Fury, "as their leader, their selfless head ? Is that how you write history ?

"I have learned to harvest the power of the tesseract," his hand formed into a pale fist which came crushing against his chest, "it obeys_ me_. By now, you are well aware that I have opened a new portal in what you call Europe. It is a most efficient one, I must admit. Perhaps, you ought to reconsider the region as your safety zone." His solitary laugh echoed around the room, taunting, paining them all. Jane hadn't even noticed that somehow, all noise had stopped. "You can continue wasting your time and strength in attempting to understate that which you cannot, or-"

"Or what ?"

Nick Fury had broken his concentration, stepping forward in a defying manner. He had retrieved a gun from the interior of his jacket, and was spitting words out like poison.

"Join _you _?" he bellowed. "There's something you don't understand: we fight because this is our home. You can't expect to arrive, proclaim yourself the rightful king of a planet which has long since banished royalty with any sort of political power, and watch us kneel at your feet to kiss your boots. It's not how it works."

"Well then perhaps," Loki opened his arms in a mocking, welcoming manner, "you could explain to me how it does. It could save us both some time. Not that it affects me, but you mortals are limited when it comes to the passing of the seasons."

Her head was reeling, too many things were happening at once. She could see Thor, a man devoted to justice, who stood straight and impassive. With his arrival, she had hoped for a semblance of peace, a quieting of the frantic enmity, to occur. For was he not the Thunderer; did he not bear the title of God ? He was so much more capable than all of them. And was not his homeland, his precious Asgard, looking after and harbouring its weaklings ?

Yet there he was, forlorn and empty-eyed as he took in every movement of his brother. Jane wanted to yell, to curse, to scream for him to do something, _anything at all. _It was a sad spectacle.

He took a step and extended a hand – not the one with the Mjölnir, Jane noted – to Loki. All became quiet, and even Fury retreated to his spot of safeness.

"And yet, in spite of everything, you are not beyond redemption," he spoke very softly. "Brother, you could still return to Asgard with me, and pardon shall be granted. You are at fault, but so are we."

It did not do much to quell the animosity in Loki's ways and phrases. Like a wounded but preposterously proud animal, he retreated, hesitating beforehand but optimally choosing the comfort of darkness to the light of his brother.

Away from Thor; away from the Mjölnir.

There, in the shadows of the room, he spoke anew. And his voice was as raw – a bleeding injury in which salt had been rubbed – as it was hoarse. He was sputtering the words rather than languidly drawing them out. The fire of his accusations went ablaze and died.

The silence fell between all of them, heavy and inconceivable to break.

It was terrifying witnessing all emotions disappearing from his face – to see that said face turn white, and welcoming the harrowing adornment in the shape of a hollow grin.

"You call me Odinson," he said with perfect indifference, "but we both know that all that matters to the All-Father is blood. I am afraid, you cannot consider me family. Give up the sentiments, those void fallacies of yours. They can but render one weak; and how weak you have become, Thor of Asgard. You protect those who next to you are mere animals, and who do so require guidance. They," and he greatly gestured around, "were meant to be to serving you. And now ? Take a look around; you are a soldier in their ranks, taking orders from a man you could kill facilely – and would be righteous in your decision. Oh, do stay away."

It happened before any of them could comprehend the reality of the situation. Clint Barton, who had had the time to reach for his bow, had taken several steps forward and was pointing an arrow directly in Loki's chest.

He never did have the time to strain the cord.

Like a rock, Barton fell to the ground, knees giving up as though all bones in his legs gave up at once. Body trembling and hands unstable, he was kneeling, his head bent down in a submissive fashion. His effort to battle the position was evident: droplets of sweat were cascading down his forehead, and a clear vein was pulsating beneath dirty skin. He must have been outside when the alarm came to life, and had rushed back in.

"This is so much better," Loki smiled. "This is _respect_."

And then she just couldn't take it any longer. The reality finally hit her – _hard_. Before her was the man who had killed more than eighty people in the period of a unique day. A man who had undoubtedly taken the lives of thousands more as long, bloodied months have passed. He was there, and she was so close she could reach out, walk a little, and touch him. He was behind Erik's unexplainable, self-harming behaviour; he had taken the last strand of sanity and friendship, going by the name of Darcy, from her. He was the one destroying her home little by little, minute by minute.

He was the enemy, and he could kill her without even blinking.

Jane gasped.

He froze.

"Jane Foster."

Her name left his lips like a prayer, a chant not quite understood but known for its qualities. It he repeated again and over, like an incantation even as he extended first one and then a second hand to her. And still she kept shaking her head. _No, no_, she would not approach him.

"Do come here," he would say, and she would back away a little bit more.

But it didn't matter, never the mind where she looked, all doors were sealed; wherever she turned to, there was no escape. In the back of her mind, Jane could hear Thor calling out to her, to Loki, to the both of them – quickly, it all became a blurry mess of confusion.

She was going into mild shock.

"The woman of science," she read on his lips. "I have been looking for you, but your friends have delivered a praiseworthy performance in keeping you out of my reach."

Then, she was thankful for Sweden, for its long, dull days and nettlesome tranquillity. As the eyes of the madman settled on her, she wished for it all to come back.

Of course, it did not. And even Thor, _her_ Thor, was not moving. Transfixed, he remained in place and cried out for his brother to back away. He was running his large, warm hands along the smoothness of the air surrounding him, and even crashed iron fists against it. She saw him stretch one arm out as far is would go, and await the Mjölnir. The great hammer made a loud sound in the distance, but did not come rushing into the waiting hand.

"I have a wee bit of time left," Loki confessed to her.

She was trapped. This, Jane realized with painful finality. He was now before her, tall and solid as rock, hands still behind his back but face edging dangerously near.

She tried to turn away; he caught her chin.

"Unfortunately," he was whispering, "I cannot immobilize your beloved for very long. Quite a shame, really." His breath was almost non-existent, but cold, so very cold, crashing mercilessly against her face like waves upon rocks. "But I am quite intrigued as to who you are, Jane Foster."

"Why do you care ?" she stuttered, and then louder, "What does it matter to you ? It's not enough that you kill hundreds of people per day, you want to add me to that list just to hurt your brother ?"

"Interesting theory," he conceded, "but retain some modesty, Lady Jane. You truly are giving yourself quite a handful of credit."

Despite herself, she blushed. He was addressing her in a vile, venomous way which was insulting and embarrassing. She had always considered him a rascal of the lowest sort, but now he was actually succeeding in making her feel valueless. Everything he said stung with bitter cold – the very cold that was him.

"You think yourself so smart, the mind of this century," he was murmuring against the skin of her cheek, "and yet fail to comprehend that nothing, nothing at all, revolves around you. Your discoveries are empty, whatever conclusions you have come to are not your own, Jane Foster. You have been pushed to knowledge and from there drew the parallels – a child's work. At once, cease considering yourself irreplaceable. There are other people I can hurt and it would affect Thor just as much. Or do you think yourself just _that_ special ?"

"Stop," Jane stammered, trying to catch his hands to push them away, "stop talking."

"Allow me to share a tale with you," Loki breathed. "Once upon too many times, Thor had taken lovers. Those were women were far more beautiful than yourself, of great talent, of impressive skills. They were endlessly courted and it was he to whom they ended up going. All these women, Lady Jane, Thor discarded like toys."

Her eyes were slowly filling with burning tears of humiliation. _Don't let him get to you_, she kept telling herself, _don't let him get to you_. But how could she not ? Every word he threw at her, every new bone he gave her, reeked of truth.

How ironic, if taking into consideration that he was the God of Lies.

Next to Thor she was a primitive being. He had gone through too many lifetimes than she cared to know, saw things that her kind would only discover in centuries. She truly was a different specimen; perhaps it had ignited his curiosity.

"Stop trying to get into my head !" Jane screamed at him. She didn't take the time to think, to analyze the situation – Jane simply brought her hands up and dug her nails into the skin of his exposed neck. It helped her to stay still as well. Shaking, she exhaled and went on. "I don't care for what you have to say - do you understand that ? Get the Hell out of here !"

The shock of being thrown against the wall did not register at first. Like a rag doll, she slid down the metallic surface, clenching her head, only vaguely aware that her skull felt as though it had been ran through by a stoker. Something warm slid down her fingers, cascaded down her neck, stained the base of her shirt.

The metallic stench reached her through the fog of pain and bewilderment, and Jane felt faint.

"You feeble-minded _girl_," he was hissing, pressing her even further against the wall. "I am offering you truth and you are spitting it back in my face. But never the matter, it is inconsistent." He had knelt by her side at this point, forcefully trying to make her lock her eyes on him. She could not. No matter how many times he seized her chin or throat, Jane could not concentrate, could not even form one clear thought. "I do so require a scientist," he murmured. "You Midgardians live on the most primitive rock there is. I cannot draw magic from it, and so am to turn to what you know as science. And you are the only logical choice – you see, your friend has failed me."

She opened her mouth to answer, but could not. The ground, everything around them, shook. Her head came crashing against the wall once more, however this time because of her inability to keep it firmly still. Maybe she cried out in pain, maybe she screamed – Jane wasn't certain. All she knew was that the cold had gone and Loki's voice along with it.

The sound of the Mjölnir being thrown. She could never confuse it with anything.

"You fall for it still, Odinson !"

"That son of a bitch !"

"I remember when I kicked his ass..."

Her head was feeling unnaturally warm. Jane blinked a few time, but failed to really see whatever was going on.

"...could not even move !"

"...speak too, and..."

She was being cradled. Someone's hands were carefully, gently brushing her hair away from her face. And then her name.

"Jane. Jane open your eyes."

Blue, kind eyes were looking down on her. She tried to smile but wasn't sure she succeeded at it. Upon parting her lips, she found a finger shutting them close.

The familiar voice which had always warmed her insides followed.

"My brother is gone, but you shall be fine. I promise you this."

Yes, yes she would be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"You sure you're feeling alright ?"

That question, she had grown to loathe. It implied her being brittle beyond words and the weakest link. Just as always, Jane absently waved her hand; the gesture a vague, silent answer.

"I mean, he did hit your head pretty hard against that wall," Tony insisted still, edging closer to her. He dropped his face into his hands, rubbing his eyes. "Maybe you don't know, but you looked really out of it."

"Well now I guess I'm fine," she retaliated.

"Simply making sure."

He wasn't the only one seeking confirmation of her well-being. A month had passed since Loki's spectacle, yet Nick Fury would occasionally walk up to her and plainly ask how was her health. Understandably, it was endearing at first – being the one everyone cared about – but as days flew by, the attention became heavy. She suffocated under its weight.

"You're the only one who knows as much as Selvig," had been the general explanation.

It had been repeated again and again until the sentence echoed in her mind, bouncing within the confinements of her aching head.

She supposed that yes, she indeed was. Even when guarded by S.H.I.E.L.D – what seemed a lifetime ago in the desert of New Mexico – Erik had kept her informed. He would share scarce but meaningful details about the cube, and as a loyal student she in turn would provide him with a personal insight.

Had the circumstances been a tad different, she knew that they would have ensured her being far away and put Banner and Stark on the case. Those were the minds of the century, and unfortunately both invested all their energy in the Avengers initiative. She was the only one left. It was true that she was considered the head of the research team alongside Bruce, but as of lately his commitment begun to falter. She could not hold him responsible. Keeping the perimeter safe while senselessly trying to control the massive power drain, and working on a project which gave no promises of success whatsoever ,could wear anyone down.

He had told her at first that while not exactly your average Joe, he still was but a scientist to S.H.I.E.L.D – a reality that quickly changed as soon as Loki came bearing gruesome news in flesh and blood.

"I don't understand," Tony growled, "I just _don't get it_. How, just fucking how, did he manage to control that thing ?"

They all knew what came with Loki being able to bend the tesseract to his will.

It was that very knowledge and the demands that came with it which kept her from sleeping at night.

She shrugged, adjusting her glasses. They had suffered the crossing from Sweden and now were cracked, broken, to be thrown away. But there would be no replacement delivered if she were to do so, and therefore she was forced to fret over them.

Stark was a sorry sight. The man was tired, weary to the bone, exhausted like a war horse. His sarcasm, once a youthful fountain, had been reduced to a few venomous drops per day, reserved for very special people.

She had caught him staring at a digital image of a woman some nights ago, and upon enquiry all he gave her was a half-laughed, half-muttered 'Pepper'.

It the yellow press she had read to kill time when nothing but a laughed-at astrophysicist had written the truth, it'd been the smiling face of Virginia Potts which he had been gazing at with boyish adoration.

In an attempt to put down his brother, the trickster had reduced everyone to misery.

She re-opened her laptop, grateful for the forever-present power of the scientific facility. Tony was looking at her through his fingers, his eyes two brown questions

"I have no idea," she answered, "but it doesn't matter. There's no way we're going to know so put your mind at ease."

He shifted, clearly discontented with the grim forecast.

"Care to explain ?"

"Loki relays on his magical abilities to draw power from the cube – something we do not understand. We can't even reproduce it. Hell ! We can't put it on paper, create some sort of theory out of it. We'll never be able to ! There are of course ways to control the tesseract; some of which we can achieve while others not so much. But for now, we must not focus on it."

The speech drained her.

It had been a difficult transition to make. To go from a violent, determined to succeed state of mind to one which only hoped for a semblance of peace had sucked her dry.

Seeing Thor immobilized, a mouse foolishly caught in a trap, had been what broke her.

If Loki could affect Thor that much, what chance did they stand ? And even if they did have one, winning wouldn't come with her running around the place, concentrating on too many things at once.

Jane no longer cared about what happened to the Avengers, nor did she savagely demand news of the world whenever Fury happened to appear on the horizon. It didn't matter where they stood at this point – all that did was her research. Those portals had to be closed.

Next to her, Tony slammed his fist against the table. She gasped, turning around to face him.

"Well that's not good enough," he hissed. "That's not how we're going to win."

The unspoken accusations, his frustration with her choices – which in turn could end up benefiting all of them – and her not quite healed wound, made Jane see red. She stood up, unable to keep her composure, and trying, so desperately trying, to remain calm. But it was like grasping at straws, aspiring to catch water and witnessing it pooling away through the spaces between fingers.

"I'm not going to waste my time guessing how the bloody thing works ! It's not going to bring us anywhere !" Jane chimed in, her voice growing louder by the minute. "I want this war to end as much as you do, but studying the tesseract isn't the way to go. We have to close the portals," at this point, she was panting, the air suddenly too heavy for her lungs, "we...we have to get rid of them."

"And he'll just keep re-opening them !" Tony roared.

"It'll give us time-"

"We'll all be dead by the morning, I say-"

"-it'll be an opportunity to get back on our feet-"

"-we have to nuke the shit out of him, that's what-"

"Enough !"

The sharp voice shattered her countenance. As if slapped, Jane staggered backwards, seeking comfort from the nearest wall. She leaned against it, eyes on Fury as he spoke with odd serenity. He had entered the lab without them noticing him, and now that the doors were wide open behind him bile rose high in her throat.

She had tried to block the image of the headquarters from her mind, had squeezed her eyes shut while forced to venture outside of her room or the lab. But now the desolation was before her. Emergency lights were flickering, electricity hissed and spat its poison through whatever opening it could find. Everyone who walked by resembled Tony with their hunched shoulders and trembling hands. She could barely register the director's voice as he spoke.

"We're all tired," Fury was saying, "it's understandable. However, it's not a reason to start fighting. We must never forget where our allegiances are. If we start quarrelling amongst ourselves, there's no point in trying to defend our homes."

Such few words yet so very poignant.

The truth sank into her consciousness, liberation and degradation joined as one. She nodded in Tony's direction, and he mirrored her thoughts by doing the same.

But for now at least, she knew they wouldn't be able to talk.

He left with Fury, only briefly turning around to sustain her gaze. There was no apology to be found in the way he held and conducted himself, but she did think there was a small amount of understanding to be perceived.

Everyone had their certainty by which they lived. He didn't accept hers, but seemed to have come to respect its existence. On her end, she offered him a little smile.

He didn't see it.

The doors closed and there was no one around any longer to be a deponent to her weakness. Jane turned away from the laptop, the schemes and calculations upon its bright screen making her sick.

It was bound to happen.

Around the world, people had begun to fall on their knees before the man who ravaged their homelands. Governments were issuing peace treaties, hoping to somehow gain the status of armed neutrality Switzerland had claimed for itself during the world wars and thus gain safety. All were looking out but for their skins alone. The Avengers, their leaders amongst this chaos, had already lost two of their men.

Hope couldn't stay alive much longer. Without it, acrimony would climb on the throne.

She bit her lip and picked up her notepad.

* * *

"Please don't blame yourself."

Her reunion with Thor hadn't gone at all as she had expected.

She hardly recognized the man whose eyes were shallow, so absent of depth, and whose voice had lost its joyous edge. Gone was the Thunderer she had come to know; there was no merriment in his manners, no smile to give to all those who so required at least some amenity.

She recalled that even as the Destroyer had approached, he had granted her a grin, a kiss upon the knuckles – and his lips had been rough and soft at the same time.

It was a most cruel thing to admit, but Jane resented him for his feelings. Loki was his brother, but he had killed. Loki was a childhood friend and companion, but he had murdered in cold blood, enjoyed the pained moans of thousands, and reduced innocents to anguish. Yes to him Loki was family still, but he was to face his crimes and fair punishment.

What other penalty could there be for him but death ? Perhaps it was what rendered the older brother so faint and irresolute.

His face seemed aged, contorted – he had been scarred by a whip of his hardship.

Each night she went to him, and silence would end up overpowering them both. Only his large, warm hand, so tightly holding both of hers, was an indication of his affection. She pressed a light kiss against his wrist; trailed a few more up as he shivered and came to rest his chin atop of her head.

"It's not your fault," she gently whispered, her breath tickling his throat, "you did everything you could."

What a banal thing to say. It had been uttered millions of times to reassure those who could not find peace. Most of the time, it failed. Yet there she was, murmuring it with decided intent into his ear, desperate to lend him any comfort at all.

He seemed to survive on her borrowed strength alone.

She shared in his pain and bled as he did. But amidst the support she gave him and her own personal throe, Jane desired someone to be firm and unyielding in her place. She wished to give up and cry hot tears in presence of all and not isolated with but her thoughts for haunting association.

She had been the one to cradle Darcy's head as the young girl had sobbed and evoked her mother's name like a sacred mantra. Now that she was surrounded by people meant to protect her, some of whom nourished tender feelings, she still was horribly lonely. It ground her bones into powder, made her all-too vulnerable on the emotional level.

No. Her physique had begun failing her too.

But it didn't matter. She could not change anything. If she were to break down, Thor would as well.

He smelled of sweat and blood and dirt. Even as she continued pressing her lips against his flesh, Jane could taste the dust in her mouth. She looked him in the eyes, arms now around his neck to support her even as she got up on her toes.

How was it for him, she wondered, to see and taste death in the air and know that it had been cause by one who would never leave his heart ? How was it to stare into the eyes of a wife whose husband had been barbarically strangled for not dropping before a psychopath ? All horrors he had seen during the long centuries of his life were nothing – they had been the affair and doings of those he had never seen.

Now he was to undo the destruction of his brother. He had to kneel and wash all the blood away.

She kissed the corner of his lips.

"Stop blaming yourself."

Her nose caressed his; she leaned in closer.

"I have to bring him back," Thor confessed, embracing her. "I have to, but do not wish to do so. He will be lost to me once the soil of Asgard is beneath our feet."

"I know, I know," was all that she could say.

He nuzzled her neck and she felt him mouthing words against her skin. It brought tears to her eyes anew.

"Our mother cries for him."

Not only she.

Her faith in Thor had never faltered, but now she did not know if he would be able to capture his brother.

After all, he had already proved to all of them that he was capable of trapping the eldest. It was an appalling, awful thought that struck her, that in the end they would be the farthest thing from victors. She felt sick, walking away from Thor and sitting on his bed to control the nausea.

"Jane."

He was by her side, bowing and holding her hands. She smiled.

"Take a shower." She kissed his forehead, ran her fingers through his dirty locks. "I'll be back soon."

"Where are you heading ?" he enquired, not releasing his grip on her. "It is late."

"You're right," Jane shook her head, "but I have to go to the lab."

He didn't move as she got up and walked to the door, and she hated herself for not staying.

* * *

She couldn't.

She couldn't cry before him.

She had to be strong, but she just couldn't be _that_ strong. Standing by Thor, dealing with the despair which had begun eating alive every member of S.H.I.E.L.D, and breaking her mind over a seemingly unsolvable predicament was a lot to take in. She did not possess the luxury of being weak.

The opposing party was far away; it was not possible for her to play the ends against the middle and watch her burdens disappear upon their collision.

Jane thought of Erik. She had seen him but once – and it had been enough. Thor had been asked to join Fury in the conference room and she, giving herself the permission, had tagged along. It was then that she had seen him.

Pale, thin, and with the mien of a dead man, he had been being escorted by two agents. Again and again she had cried out his name, yelled it until her throat and lungs were raw, until she could almost taste the iron of the blood on her tongue. And Thor, wounded by the performance but clear-minded, had held her back.

She had screamed things that even now hurt to remember, screamed that she hated him, that he was better to let go of her, and that he was almost as vile as his brother for not putting and end to his actions.

He had taken the insults, all of them, as though they were trifles. Later, she had apologized with silent tears as her face had been buried in his broad chest.

Erik had looked at her square in the face, but hadn't seen her. His eyes had cut through her; she had been nothing more than another grey wall of the facility.

"Loki has not yet released him," Thor had murmured into her ear, as she had clung to him as a child might to his mother's skirt. "Erik Selvig is lost to you for now, Jane."

Erik was as good as dead, Tony was loosing faith in her abilities, Thor had gone numb from sorrow.

She wished she could simply curl up and die.

As days flew by, supplies became more and more limited and the oxygen difficult to breathe. She would constantly ask to go outside for a mere minute, but would always see her request denied. But she kept trying. It became a habit more than anything else at some point, a way to stay saint and be assured that the world was still the same. As long as Fury continued telling her it was impossible, everything was right.

But she did so desire to see the sun.

Jane envied Darcy. Hidden away in Europe, she possessed much more freedom than she. Perhaps she was only allowed to longingly gaze outside the window – Jane didn't even have one.

"Oh Lord," she rasped, "I'm going mad."

Her hands shook as she grabbed the table to steady herself. Soon she would have to leave or else Thor would become suspicious.

She didn't want to gamble and discover what might happen to _his_ sanity should he discover her in such a state.

"Jane Foster."

The voice dazed her.

"No, no," she repeated, "you can't be here."

Blood rushed to her head, clouded her vision, made everything hurt. Hyperventilating, she made way for the doors, hands sliding against walls to keep her from collapsing. Already, her knees had been replaced by cotton.

He was holding her by the shoulders before she knew it. By then, panic had kicked in and she started trashing wildly in his arms, kicking backwards, twisting like crazy. Her breathing had transformed into ragged pants which echoed across the labs, hit the ceiling, the floor, everything, and came back to assault her in the form of infernal imitations.

"Keep still," she heard him growl into her ear, but it was of no use.

Somehow, Jane found it in herself to stabilize her body, and with ardent vigour crashed her foot against his.

He gasped, violently pushing her away instead of simply retreating.

She stumbled forwards, forehead colliding with a lab table. Above, test tubes clicked against each other and shattering of glass ensued. Still fighting to catch her breath, Jane rolled to the side.

_No, no, no, no..._

There were large, nonchalant droplets of acid landing on the floor just a few inches away from her face. Their distinct, pungent smell invaded her nostrils; produced fumes caused her eyes to water; and at once it became difficult to inhale.

They had used it to dissolve some of the metals necessary for the construction of the pipes leading to the portal. As luck would have it, the remains were now dangerously close to her cheek.

Pain shot through her entire frame as she was yanked into a standing position by her hair. She tried to claw at the fingers which unrelentingly grasped at strands and dug into her skull. A wild scream escaped her as she was pulled away from the table and then, quite suddenly, released.

Again she fell, hitting the ground as a rock might.

Nothing more than a shot animal at the moment, Jane crawled away, shaking like a dog beaten and then thrown out in the rain.

There was an alarm button, if only she could reach it...

"Cease this nonsense !" his voice resonated around her, deafening, an open threat.

Immediately, she froze. Too afraid to even attempt to gain a dignified stance, and instead remained kneeling with her back to him.

Loki walked to her, each nearing step making her heart beat faster. She felt him running his hands down her back before finally settling on her waist. A new time, he forced her up. It didn't hurt; he had been surprisingly gentle in his handling of her.

His face was that sort of chalk white as she remembered with the same mad, unblinking eyes.

"Jane Foster," he repeated her name, tracing it with his lips, "I only seek audience with you."

She shook her head, shut her eyes tight together. Everything about this situation reeked deception.

"I will yell," Jane warned him, the bluff bitter in her mouth in its falsehood.

"And I shall break your neck."

He was smiling as though he had just invited her over for some afternoon tea. She stared at his hands, those hands with their long, thin fingers which he had just promised to wrap around her neck should she break the silence.

"Let us sit," he said very calmly.

She opened her mouth to speak, but without accord it shut close almost instantly, teeth painfully shattering together. Jane winced, biting back the unpleasant sensation so he would not see. As she tried to run for he life again, she found it to be impossible – her feet refused to lift from the ground. It was as though she had stepped into cement which had had the time to solidify.

Now positively on the edge of a nervous breakdown, she kicked fear to the side and grabbed the collar of his green tunic, refusing to let go.

He looked down at her, arched an eyebrow and proceeded to ease her down into a chair which had somehow appeared behind her.

"Listen to me," Loki ordered. "Listen to me, Jane Foster, and I will allow you to walk away."

She let go of him, rubbing her hands. "Please leave, just leave."

Trust in him was not something she possessed, but she did cling to the promise, however slim it might be, of freedom.

It was Loki's turn to sit down. Even then, he was still taller than her – a figure which impressed and rightfully inspired fear. He had not lost an ounce of that demented countenance which caused the air around to turn cold, and fright to appear.

He leaned forward. She turned her face away.

"The tesseract is loyal to Odin," he murmured. "It has always been his creation, and even when in the hands of a new master it still longs for its maker."

In his crazed fascination with the cube and his depiction of it, he seemed to have forgotten her, speaking to nothingness instead.

She gave him a quizzed look. "I fail to see the problem. You're a god yourself, there shouldn't be anything beyond you."

Loki chuckled. "Clever girl, but no it isn't so. I do not deny that I can control it to an extent." His fingers quickly ran across her cheeks. Scared that he might seize her hair again, Jane made herself look at him. "But be that as it may, it will never relinquish its full power to someone's whose magic is not Odin's."

Jane chortled, almost choking on the new information and the possibilities it represented.

"Well then," she replied with a slight grin, "I guess it's too bad for you."

"Ah !" He had pushed her further into the chair; until her back hurt by being in too close contact with the wood, until she felt like he would break her bones. "But I said magic ! You see, dear Jane Foster, what you call science is actually a most peculiar thing. I may not have a great deal of appreciation for it, but it is useful. Science – not my magic – can grant me everything the tesseract has to offer.

"Dr. Selvig has come far in his research, but he has been taken from me. A little more and your silly friends wouldn't be here, planning to overthrow me. No, Jane, they would be dead and buried and your beau sent far away. Perhaps even to Jotunheim – I'm sure the Frost Giants would have appreciated the chance to rip him to pieces. And now, I want you to think."

She sucked in a breath as he cupped her face. Oh, this was madness and she would not come out of it alive. Jane thought of Thor would was by now asleep, of Nick Fury who had promised to protect her but obviously had failed to do so, of her mother who was probably rolling in her grave.

She didn't want to, but could not contain herself. Jane cried. Tears, burning traitors, spilled from her eyes and coated his fingers, ran down his wrists like thin, translucent ribbons.

"Why are you crying ?" he questioned, sounding mildly annoyed.

"Is it so wrong of me to want to keep on living ?" she spat back. "I just, I simply-"

"Do shut up," he barked. "I am not going to kill you. At least, not now."

Realization washed over her like cold water. She shook her head.

No. _No._

"I'm not going to do it," Jane murmured. "I will not help you."

"I believe you will reconsider," Loki grinned.

His chair had disappeared and he was no standing before her, arms parted as though awaiting an embrace.

"Oh, but who can that be !" he exclaimed.

She blinked what seemed millions of times, but the small fog which had appeared before her was not an optical illusion. In it, images were swirling. Familiar images, she realized. The pale, tired face of Darcy could be seen. The girl was sleeping, her ever-present glasses absent. The projection shifted, taking the shape of a blond man whom she recognized as Steve Rogers. Colours were added. Red, a lot of red, and soon she was seeing another woman. Natasha Romanoff.

And Erik.

He was also showing her Erik.

"They will die," Loki stated. "Unless you cooperate."

"I-"

"Think of it, Jane Foster."

She fell to the floor, her palms softening the shock but in the process damaging the wrists.

Her chair was no longer there.

Loki was gone.

* * *

You're all amazing. Feedback is love.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

If Thor, Tony, and Banner didn't think she'd gone insane, Jane didn't want to know what exactly had crossed their minds.

Since the incident, she had become their own personal paparazzi, their five feet three inches shadow. She slept with Thor in his quarters – not that he minded, and neither did she – followed Bruce around all day as far as work could be presented as an explanation, and always managed to somehow bump into Stark in the hallways.

This was a defence mechanism, this wasn't rational. She operated as an abuse victim might – if she ignored the facts, if she remained constantly surrounded by people then _it_ wouldn't happen again. Lightning never struck in the same place twice. A fair philosophy; often truthful.

Unless, Thor was concerned.

It failed to make her smile.

Of course, it was a matter of time before Fury came to find her. He was alone, which in itself was odd, and his right hand was nowhere in sight. Hill rendered the air around her heavy to breathe, but she was a comforting presence. As someone who could be called a 'mere human', she was incredibly dangerous, and knew how to hurt, defend, and shout useful orders.

With a court nod of his head, he invited her to walk with him. She really wished he hadn't. Her trust in him was genuine – though the same could not be said of respect; she still was bitter and somewhat resentful of S.H.I.E.L.D seizing her assets and killing the quiet, tranquil pacing of her existence – but God only knew what he had in mind. If he decided to put her under watch, deeming her a traitor because of Loki's impromptu visit, no one would stop him.

But then again, he had no way of knowing what had occurred in the lab some nights ago. She'd been paranoid, had checked every security camera within her reach under the pretence that the experiments with the energy wave might have damaged the recordings, and they so needed those to further the research. However, there had been no indications of him being present – or her as a point of fact. The footage hadn't been erased and replaced with a hoax – this she could tell by recalling some things she'd learned during montage classes, a college infatuation. There was simply taunting, mocking nothingness.

An empty, quiet, undisturbed lab with no traces of Jane Foster being overpowered by the Norse God of Mischief.

As a scientist, she was curious to know how he'd managed to do that. As a human being who longed for a false front of equanimity, she chose to suppress the question and bury it alive. To torment her mind with one more equation would serve no purpose. She would just hit the ground and be pinned to it quicker. And she wanted to get back on her feet; desperately so.

"How are you ?" Fury asked after the common exchange of civilities and greetings. "You seem on edge."

So did everyone else. Jane shrugged. "Still getting used to this. It's a lot to take in, especially after Blekinge."

He laughed a humourless, empty laugh. "Blekinge. Don't we all wish we were there."

"I suppose."

She didn't know what else to tell him. He talked but whenever he addressed her, enveloped in his radiant cloak of amiability, it meant there were more tricks hidden deep within his pockets than what was offered to the eye. More words which held the ability to hurt, to scare, or even alleviate an ache. She started cracking the joints of her fingers in a nervous frenzy as he went on about the portals, and her work.

"That energy will surely be measurable ? I mean, we will be able to trace and follow it ?"

She shook her head. "Yes, of course." Jane rubbed her temples, tearing her brain apart for words not part of the scientific vocabulary which all could understand. "It will have – the prototype already has – its own signature. It's unique."

"Ah." Fury halted in his tracks, opting for a hallway which led nowhere in particular. It connected many corridors that in turn did have a destination at their end. He appeared to only want to walk. "And you would be able to identify it ?"

The world was getting whiter by the minute. Her vision was slowly but surely abandoning her.

Jane's face was contorted in a small grimace of incomprehension as she answered, "Yes...Where are you going with this, Director ?"

"Dr. Banner came to me this morning."

She stopped breathing.

Fury continued, just as calm as before. This was probably the same stance he adopted whenever inviting a relative over for lunch – and it was chilling the blood in her veins. He did not look bothered, or even remotely concerned; and while his hands were clasped behind his back, an action he called onto whenever deep in thought, there were no indications whatsoever of him being after her.

This was not an interrogation. At least, not the criminal kind.

"Yes ?" she said, and her voice came out just a tad hoarser than she would have desired.

"Energy readings were recorded near the laboratory three days ago. At first he thought it being some sort of mistake – seeing as we do have some problems around here – but now he's thinking they might mean something."

Relief was almost physical as she felt it overtaking her body. Like a formidable poison, the sweetest drug, it coaxed her to relax. Even something akin to a smile came to graze her lips. There was but childish excitement to be found within her – it had replaced her blood. _He's not on to me, he's not on to me, he's not on to me_, was Jane's sole defined thought.

But for performance's sake, she pulled off a scoffing expression. "Well, why didn't you call me ?" It even sounded confident.

"You've been under a lot of stress, Miss Foster. Dr. Banner assured me he would deal with it." He held a pregnant pause, and finally picked a direction.

As they neared the lab, she understood they were now heading towards its experimental part, the one secured by meters and meters of special materials that would temporarily withstand almost any attack known to humanity.

Too bad they weren't exactly dealing with men.

"We would just like you to take a look," Fury broke her concentration, "as the head of the research group."

He didn't sound like himself. It made her frown. Either this was a game and he was testing her, or they really all believed she was slowly but surely loosing her mind. It was a card she could play for the time being while figuring out how to deal with the Loki situation; but eventually it would become anything but favourable. Her emotional breakdown after encountering Erik had apparently been seen by more than just Thor and the two agents.

"Fine."

"Oh, and Jane ?"

She froze. Was this it ? Was he about to show his true colours ? His hands came into view, painting and invisible picture. It helped her force on mask of bitter alienation, a perfect disguise taking into account the circumstances.

"Now that you are fully rested," he said so very calmly, "and in good health, we would like to talk to you about your conversation with Loki."

"Conversation ?" she stammered.

_He knows, he knows, he knows..._

"Yes," the Director acquiesced. "He did talk to you when he made that little appearance of his in order to brag about his new toy. We'd like to clear up a few things."

"Of course..." she murmured.

One day, S.H.I.E.L.D was going to stop her heart and not even a defibrillator powered by Thor's talents would be able to bring her back.

Bruce, and surprisingly Tony, had grown roots at the table. Their noses were almost glued to the computer screen and their only acknowledgement of her arrival was a vague 'hello'.

"This is endearing," she mumbled, and joined them.

No answer followed. Bruce simply pushed a pile of documents towards her, and silently told her to drag a chair and find a place next to them.

"You really are everywhere," Jane tried again, attempting to strike a conversation. "Huh, Tony ?"

"We can't have sex. I don't want to be killed by lightning."

At least someone still had his sense of humour. However, it wasn't laced with cheeriness or intent. It merely was a retaliation, a reflex cut deep in skin. She sighed. It was impossible to even choke out a laugh.

The situation was saddening.

She sat by Bruce, preferring his quiet mannerisms to Tony's frequent curses and emotional outbursts – truly, the man should have been a sailor. Silently, Jane opened the first file that had been given to her. The recorded data, questions scribbled by one's impatient hand, and possible conclusions of all kinds assaulted her mind. For an instant, she closed her eyes, taking in all the presented information.

But what was horrible was that amidst the confusion Stark and Banner could not find their way through, she caught sight of something familiar. Jane suspected so did Bruce.

"This," she cleared her throat, "right here is-"

"Yes, I know," he interrupted her. "But it doesn't make sense."

"It looks like the energy from the portals," Tony chimed in. "But what I don't understand is that you guys haven't turned on the prototype lately, so..."

The rest, she did not hear.

Many years ago, while she was still a child, her father had taken her to an amusement park. It was her first outing as a 'big girl', as he had called her. Oh yes indeed, she was eight and thus allowed such crazed affairs as roller-coasters. But once seated, her throat had constricted, vision had turned blurry and an overall, suffocating, torturous, feeling engulfed her. An asthma attack, it had been. It had passed and throughout the years she had fallen victim to the uncomfortable reaction five or six times. Now, was a new one.

She gulped air as though it was available in limited quantities -and given their underground state it was probably not too far from the truth. The recommendations, the inhalers, all of it she had dismissed what seemed centuries ago. With a proper state of mind – that is, an unnaturally calm one – she usually was able to resume airflow.

Only now, she had two grown men shouting things she could not quite hear and wave their hands as though attempting to conjure a remedy out of thin air.

"_Jane_. Jane !"

Bruce had caught her face. Her wheezing breaths were crashing against his jaw, making that little beard of his, child of lack of time, waltz a little.

"Asthma ?" he kept asking her. "Is it asthma ?"

"I..I..."

"Stark, get some help."

"No kidding."

Her body kept falling back, and whenever it did so was forced back in an upright position. Breathing was easier when sitting down. Bruce's action evoked a memory from a lifetime which didn't seem to belong to the world they were in. That one, hadn't been scarred by war.

_You have to make her straddle a chair backwards then prop her elbows._

Cold, professional enquiries regarding what else could be done were thrown at her, but she was in no measure to answer. He'd left her side to go through her backpack, the manner in which he rid it of its content betraying his contained facade. There was no information card with useful instructions to be found or any traces of medicine. He let go of it, regretting the lost solution.

Jane heard a voice she didn't know, followed by a second one. Then there were people encircling her, but by that time she'd began not to see clear. She was asked what she usually used, but couldn't reply, culprits of which were both lack of knowledge and breath.

She felt herself being lifted up and carried out.

* * *

The trigger of the attack went unidentified.

Her attendant, a woman performing the duties of both doctor and nurse, supposed it was on the account of stress.

She also got chided for not sharing the details of her condition and its severity. There were some traces in her medical file recounting asthma-related incidents, but no truly relevant information. Everything that touched the matter of her health was outdated or missing. A recent invasion had destroyed a lot of paperwork, leaving some of S.H.I.E.L.D's specialists blind and in the dark.

"I want you to stay for another hour," Dr. Hart said, her tone clipped. It wasn't a request. "Ill try to find you an inhaler in the meantime."

"Alright."

"Miss Foster, I'm serious." Her face turned opaque while her eyes took a turn for the dark. "You have to use it twice a day."

"I will."

Oddly, there weren't a lot of injured people laying around. She recalled seeing countless broken arms, sprains, bloody noses and faces – but those people were walking around the headquarters like nothing at all had occurred, as if New York hadn't been ravaged, and carried on with their duties. It was a noble sacrifice, and one she didn't quite understand. Jane was a strong believer that if one was ill, then he had to recover before coming back. Work could be compromised.

They didn't have the luxury of such choice now.

Those on the beds surrounding her did not talk or whimper in pain. Their eyes were closed and skin ashen. The majority was hooked to IVs. She shuddered, wrapping the thin blanket around her shoulders.

The place wasn't a hospital, at least not a real one, but sure bore the same nauseating smell. It made her sick.

Jane got up, decided to find the bathroom and empty the contents of her stomach there before the sheets suffered a similar sad fate.

The grey walls didn't greatly differ from the rest of the base – just as thick, just as sorrowful. The place was poor. Poor in colours and shades, pleasant stimuli and the most basic amusements. One could escape reality if only by burying his nose into a book, and that is if only one could be found.

She located the bathroom at the end of the big room. Absent of a lock, it did not offer much privacy but it was somewhat understandable. If someone lost consciousness in here, the medics did not need the additional worry that breaking down a door represented. It made perfect sense, but she grew frustrated nonetheless.

Getting down on her knees, she waited and then waited a little more longer. The sensation lasted but her stomach remained adamant in not giving up the breakfast it had received this morning. Later while washing her hands, she took more time than proper, finding comfort in the water's coolness and how it caressed her skin.

And it helped with thinking.

Bruce wasn't an idiot nor was Tony, but he was much more informed about the project than the latter. Perhaps the so-called Iron Man could hack into any database, but he wasn't as well acquainted with the energy signatures as the two of them were. Jane could recognize the prototype's traces with but a glance. A thousand of similar ones could be shown to confuse her mind, but she still would be able to point to the one emitted by the machine she'd helped conceiving.

What Fury had said sounded like a verdict of sorts. A curious fact which doubtlessly could be twisted into an accusation were they all to discover that she'd been in the lab that night. For a moment, Jane felt overpowering gratitude for Loki and him erasing the camera footage which featured not only him but her too. She was not on his side, would never be, but it did not mean that there was no basic urge to protect her own skin. She would not be wrongfully blamed. Not until she had solid evidence to back up her position.

And a valuable chip to bargain for everyone's safety.

Still, it all meant that S.H.I.E.L.D was now informed of something fishy going on within their protected walls. She clenched at her hair, feeling the sweat which was decorating her temples. Inform them, could it even be possible ? If so, how ? She wanted to do it, so much it hurt inside. But what of Erik, of Darcy, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff ? Mayhap she could, mayhap she could sacrifice herself somehow for them and they would find a way to prove she wasn't conspiring with the enemy.

Loki was a liar. A talented one. Deceiving was his art, one he had perfected to the point of being considered a maestro in his own genre. When bluffing, he lived; all the other time, he merely existed. She could not forget that, and yet always did. There was a strong possibility of Rogers and Romanoff being dead already. He loathed the Avengers, for Christ's sake. What purpose keeping two simple humans could serve him ? Was he going to turn them against S.H.I.E.L.D like he had done with Clint Barton ? If so, why were they still under the radar even after all those months ? They were not scientists like Erik, staying locked all day with the tesseract did not make any sense. And it's not like he didn't have a Chitauri army to guard it.

Her head reeled, she rubbed her eyes. What exactly was she trying to do ? Attempting to justify her silence by two possible deaths ? It was cowardly, and made her feel like a deserter, a cur.

This was war, it was driving everyone mad.

She would tell.

It was the right thing to do. She would go to Fury and tell him everything. Loki's whispered offering and all details of their second private encounter. He was a just man, he would listen to her.

And after ? She preferred not to think of the after for now.

Perhaps if they worked out a deal to fool Loki he could be trapped and no one would be harmed.

"Sit down, please."

Back amongst the sick, she saw Dr. Hart returning, hands hesitantly flying around a tall, thin man. He sat on a free bed and did not protest as the woman attacked him with a stethoscope.

Jane took a step forward and then, disregarding all etiquette, started running. Throwing herself before Erik Selvig, she took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

For it was him. Terribly changed, with hair greyer than she remembered and sunken cheeks. He was an image of a man lost, of one who'd abandoned everything – from hope to ideas. She did not recognize him.

"Miss Foster !" Dr. Hart exclaimed. "Back away now, you have no permission-"

Jane ignored her. "Erik, Erik, Erik !" she whispered again and over. "Look at me, look at me dammit !"

His eyes were that icy shade of blue that Barton's when he had been possessed by Loki. She'd seen photos. But he was no catatonic. His lips moved and he even leaned towards her ever so slightly, and when she chose to seize his shoulders he shivered.

His mouth opened; she was still muttering his name.

"J-Jane..."

She started crying. With a genuine smile, warm eyes, and deranged words pouring out of her mouth, she felt _happy_. She told him that he would be well, that now all pieces would fall into place, that they were all safe. He tugged at her sleeve when her nails dug a bit too dip into the exposed skin.

Dr. Hart had moved out of the way and was talking with someone over the intercom.

"Jane..." he said again, "I..."

"Shh, shh !" she stopped him, pressing two fingers to his dry lips. "Don't talk. We'll have time for that later. You have to rest. Oh, Erik."

Instead of calming down, he seemed to be getting more agitated. Shaking his head and closing his eyes, he tried to form a coherent sentence.

"He let me..."

Her euphoria shifted.

That shaky _he_ held more meaning than any other nonsense he'd blabbered minutes before. Jane sat on the bed next to him, now lowering her voice. She tried to make him look at her, but he kept turning away.

"What is it ?" she murmured. "What did Loki do ?"

"I am very tired."

It was the first thing he'd said without stumbling on words, without stammering, without sounding like a baffled child. His tone had regained the gravity she came to associate with Erik Selvig. He was _himself_.

And his eyes were brown.

The change had been subtle, but once paid attention to certainly amazing. With the blue gaze was gone his strength. His entire body appeared to be ready to collapse. Jane had to ease him down so he wouldn't fall onto the hard ground instead of the uncomfortable pillow.

"What is it ? What happened ?" she heard Dr. Hart call. "What did you do, Miss Foster ?"

She was pushed out of the way by the worried woman straight into the arms of a waiting agent. The man did not let go when she tried to wiggle, and then thrash, out of his grasp.

"Let go of me !" she growled. "You have no right !"

"I am to take you back to your quarters, Miss Foster," he answered, "or wherever you wish."

"Well, I want to stay here."

He looked annoyed. "That is not possible." Then adding, "For the time being."

_For the time being_. S.H.I.E.L.D just loved using that one.

* * *

Think, think, think, she kept ordering herself. She had to think.

After locking her door, she had gone through her things. Every notepad had been looked through, every sheet she had ever written on analyzed.

Every little piece of information she had ever gathered about the tesseract was now before her. She wanted to write on the wall, draw the Yggdrasil as big as she could, but then questions would be asked. She desired to address herself, to speak aloud questionable, droll theories but that would be recorded.

Odin's tesseract. The cosmic cube. A marvel of the All-Father's trophy room.

Somehow it could be controlled, and somehow it had been brought to Earth. Jane did not believe in deities. Thor was a being from another universe where they used magic instead of science. This was all. There had to be a way for those two forces to interact.

There had to be a way to come up with something matching the tesseract. A fair rival.

Every reaction could be opposed and effects mitigated. One could call it Midgardian logic, but it was nevertheless a common truth. All worlds shared it.

Loki had said that it obeyed Odin even when separated from him. It had a new master, but was nostalgic and ever so often chose to do what its previous owner asked of it. It was what kept him from bringing them all to their knees.

He had said that science could help him achieve that.

So the two could really be linked. She just had to find how.

But her thoughts wandered. Erik. He'd been freed by Loki, he was no longer his servant. What did it mean ? There had to be a deeper meaning; with Loki there always was.

Did it have to do anything with her ? Was he trying to send her a message ? A simple month ago she would have labelled the thought ridiculous. Now, however, it was possible. Was there truly a hidden meaning, or had he lost control by being so far away from the target ?

If putting magic into physics and making parallels, the theory was not far-fetched. Even with heavy machinery ,which replaced thousands of working hands, there still had to be someone nearby to supervise.

The book of Norse mythology she had brought along from Blekinge lay on her bed. S.H.I.E.L.D had frowned upon it, but allowed its' keeping. With the God of Thunder and the one of Mischief walking amongst them, there didn't seem to be any danger in her reading stories about them and their world.

The countless dog ears confused her. She couldn't remember where she had stopped last, instead choosing on dwelling on a chapter describing Loki's killing of his brother Balder. She knew that the tesseract would not be mentioned, but needed something lighter to calm her racing heart. Plus, it never hurt to know more about the enemy.

Odin drinking his sadness away after hearing of the Ragnarok, Frigga sitting by his side, and one of their sons causing the demise of his beautiful brother. Malice bordered on cruelty for the first time, and he was exiled.

Playfulness disappeared and evil took its place.

Jane closed the book and instantly reopened it. It hadn't provided the much needed balm of distraction, but instead ripped out the stitches of a fresh wound.

Loki had killed his brother because of too much gaiety going on. He wouldn't care twice about them _pitiful Midgardians_.

Seeing his real, warm brown eyes for the first time, witnessing Erik being himself for the first time in months, had been a poisoned benediction.

Her resolve shattered, and at once Jane knew she would not confess.

Could not, was a better way of putting it.

This was not about her, had never been. Yes she was afraid, and yes her blood was running cold, but it was not important. Lives were on the line. If knowing that someone could die because of her was horrible enough, actually watching a person perish was a punishment no one had to suffer through.

It was almost midnight. Thor would wonder where she was, and he probably had already been told of her trip to S.H.I.E.L.D's emergency room. Knowing him, he was most likely out of his mind with concern. He would torture himself until the walking confirmation that she was would present herself before him.

She looked around her small room, and in such a sorry state it was. She could not bring herself to tidy it up. There was no reason to do so. Tomorrow, she would return and everything would fly into disarray once again.

Jane bent down to pick up the book she had been studying from the floor only for it seemed incredibly distasteful and disrespectful to the piece of literature to spent its night there.

Out of it, flew a note. She did not think twice when prying the two ends apart to discover the content. It had to be some scribbling of hers.

_Dear Jane_, the missive's beginning said, _I strongly believe you appreciate my gesture of good will which is returning Dr. Selvig to you-_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Air.

Until now, her lungs had been as though calcified, operating only whenever forced to. She was leaning against the building that served as the hallway to S.H.I.E.L.D's headquarters. There was no real use in hiding – it's not as though the enemy didn't know where exactly they were plotting their next move, attack, and slept, and ate. He could come and go as he pleased, seeing as teleporting was a child's work to him. She saw no logic in running a few extra miles to confuse whatever Chitauri soldier was watching them. If Loki knew where they all were, then so did his minions. And if they hadn't yet attacked _here_ – carefully avoiding the perimeter while pulverizing to dust everything else – then she could safely assume they wouldn't break the habit today.

Plus, the men assigned to escort her weren't exactly eager to start running. One was staying by her, a first gun in his hand with the second coyly sitting at his hip, while the other was trying to get the car going. Apparently, Thor and Tony Stark were flying around somewhere. Thor had assured her that he would let no harm befall her – and she believed him. How could she not ? He almost emanated pure, genuine frankness. Lies did not become him; whenever he attempted to tell a fable designed for her comfort, she could read it across his features.

"Ready, Miss Foster," the man at the car called her.

"Let's go then," she answered back, covering her ears as something collapsed in the distance, shattering her eardrums.

No wind hit her face as they drew, not even sunlight came to shyly caress the sides of her face. This vehicle had tinted windows.

How depressing.

_Dear Jane, _

_I strongly believe you appreciate my gesture of good will which is returning Dr. Selvig to you._

_While in a confused state, rest assured that he shall regain full control of both his mental and physical abilities soon. How soon ? This, I cannot tell. Time is the master here and does not obey me, but I can say with certainty that your comforting presence will help._

_I have made you an offer, an offer you chose to ignore and carelessly disregard. Perhaps, you do not understand what is at stake. Hiding is not an answer – it never is. It is a reaction, an understandable one, but a mere reaction nonetheless. And nothing can flourish on insubstantial, coward recoil. No crops will grow on a soil which never sees the gift of water._

_Consider it what you wish: a proposition, a command. The term holds little importance to me. I do however require someone with knowledge and mind equalling the one's of Erik Selvig. Him, I cannot use any longer. By fortune or mischance, the duty of continuing his work falls on you. Your Midgardian organization understood that – and so did I. _

_You can opt to run to your paramour and make the epistle public; it is your choice to make. Or, you can accept my humble request for conversation. There might be something in it for you as well, Jane Foster. _

_Should you see reason, make your way outside._

That was it. No goodbye or signature at the end.

The letter was burning a hole through the leather of her jacket. It felt good having something as heavy as that on. It allowed warmth to settle in and never leave. Feeling it turning her bones from stone to living matter was a whole new sensation.

He was so _civil_.

She had tossed in bed at night and tore at her hair, woke Thor three times to almost tell him but then changed her mind. Receiving a letter changed everything. This was not a threatening visit. This was not him banging her head against the wall or literally propelling her across the lab. This was a mockery, a polite request.

She had sneered more than once as she re-read the message, even as fright gnawed at her insides. Loki was _requesting_ to see her ? Was her initiative of sticking by three of the Avengers actually an ingenious one ?

First came crashing confusion, then animal scare, but in the aftermath nothingness quelled them all and so started its reign. She felt empty inside, unaware of what was the best course of action, the right path to take.

Well, the right path would have been walking to Nick Fury and confessing everything. But she was selfish, she was only human, she could not talk and risk the lives of those she loved even if it meant that thousands of others could possibly be saved.

And she hated herself for that.

_Make your way outside_, the letter had said. How was she to accomplish such a feat ? S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't even let her wander to the top floors of the headquarters.

_Shut up_, he had said that night. _Shut up_. This letter was a fallacy, a clever way to lead astray her already beclouded mind. Truly, quite an affable deceit. Loki was of vehement character and berserk actions, he was no believer of no man's land – for that was what he was offering her. To meet and _talk_. Oh no. He would force his ideals upon her and watch her crumble, playing ace after ace while savouring the sight of her gasping for a counter, drowning under the weight of his declarations.

He would not be satisfied with but a conversation. Either way, she was getting out defeated.

And yet, she was doing this.

Jane, whose mind had always thrived on the rational, could not come up with an explanation along the same lines. This had not been a decision of a scientist – a forlorn, lost girl had made it. Had she been hoping ? Hoping for what ? That he would consent to her refusal and be the gentleman he was not ?

Loki would crush her like glass, and the beads would not even make him bleed.

Could he even bleed ? He was so unreachable, a true god-like figure which walked and breathed and talked like her. A man by appearance yet so much more by realities of birth and uprising. They were a similar vision, but one could reduce the other to servitude. And the oppressed did not have means or gifts to retaliate.

Oh, why had she agreed.

But she was no fool herself. Somehow, she would get something out of this. Something S.H.I.E.L.D could use.

Getting out had proved to be challenging. It took her four days to come up with a believable, simplistic excuse. Sceptical at first, Bruce had given her the green light at the end and told her to see Fury for the general, final approval. Throwing in all the technical jargon she knew, Jane had babbled until her mouth turned dry. At the end of the speech, the Director had arched his eyebrows and told her to repeat everything in simple words.

"I need to sample the portal's energy," she had told him.

"We already have recordings," he had retorted.

"And now we need exact information if we want our weapon to work. Yes we have readings, Director, but there's so little we know about _it_. Our systems identified its composition; they picked up what we have already discovered God knows how long ago. But there are elements part of the recipe we do not know, have never heard of. Therefore, we need a piece of it."

A heated argument had ensued with her being crowned the victor.

With Tony and Thor somewhere close, S.H.I.E.L.D hadn't judged it necessary for Bruce Banner to accompany her. Everyone still remembered his outburst on board of the Hellcarrier. New York was already a mess, no one needed a giant monster ravaging whatever was left of it - less he damaged, better chances they had of stumbling on something they might later on require use of.

Of that decision, she was profoundly grateful.

With two men shielding her and an unknown number keeping their distances, Jane had no concept of a scenario which ended up working. Getting outside to talk to Loki ? _How_ ? She was surrounded, constantly watched, her every move monitored and reported.

_Should you see reason, make your way outside. _That's all he had asked of her; surely he was clever enough to realize that she would not be alone.

No encounters with the Chitauri, no unseen power sources shooting at their car and crippling the engines. The whole picture was sickeningly calm. She was about to enquire whether days like those really did occur from time to time - if New York had its own weather in concern of violence with wild, peaceful, and mild being the possible forecasts – but bit her tongue instead. The man at the wheel was too busy inspecting every little corner before hitting the gas pedal while the one next to her muttered into a transmitter. They would not answer.

"The way is clear," they were informed by a voice she could not quite assign a face to, so distorted it was. The transmitter spat some interferences for a while longer and went silent.

They had arrived. The car came to a halt and she plastered her face against the nearest window, trying to make out the outside. When she was let out, Jane felt the urge to yell.

Everyone was here, _everyone_. From Thor to Tony, from Maria Hill to agents she had never seen. The only two faces she could find amongst the otherwise suffocating crowd were the ones belonging to Nick Fury and Bruce Banner. Silent, she walked to the already assembled equipment, escorted by the two men from the car, and distantly ran her hand up and down the smooth, cool metal.

Thor was the first to go to her. Reverently, he planted a kiss to her forehead which she returned by one to his throat and a light squeeze of his hand.

"So this is science," he murmured, a graceful, delectable smiling grazing his lips.

"Yes," she said, "and you get to watch me work some of my magic." Which really would just be her squatting next to the portal.

"I look forward to it, Jane."

And when he pulled her close, hands pleasantly digging into her back and chest pressing to her nose, the letter couldn't have burned any more painfully.

"Miss Foster."

Maria Hill's commanding tone broke the tender moment with impressive crudeness. Dominating and cold, she confidently was uttering orders and at last a directive for her to follow was barked.

She did not walk to her, preferring remaining within her element – S.H.I.E.L.D. Encircled by men and women in black uniforms, she presented a sight worth gawking at. Swallowing, taking Thor's hand, Jane went to her.

"Mr. Stark here," she began as soon as they were close enough, "will perform all the necessary manipulations. You, will stay here and once the sample obtained verify that no mistakes have been made and you have what you need. This is a highly risky operation, we do no want to have to repeat it."

But she had gone deaf after the mere first affirmation. _Mr. Stark here will perform all necessary manipulations_. This was supposed to be her chance to gain an absolute moment of solitude -to secure Erik's sanity for the time being. It was being wrenched away most unceremoniously; cruelly was a description too light to apply.

"But I..." she stammered before mind could catch up with reason, "but I was supposed to-"

"This is for you security," Hill put and end to her hem and haw.

"But it is my project !" she insisted. "Please, you have to understand-"

"Don't worry, I'll make you proud."

_Of course you will Tony_, she rolled her eyes internally. But this was not about getting the task done right.

"This is for your security," Hill said once more this time with agonizing finality and stalked off.

Cut mid-sentence, not listened to, and cocooned as though a child, Jane felt like bursting into tears. So much for her efforts.

Thor's presence was both comforting and threatening. Now that he was here, she doubted Loki would even attempt to draw close. He shied away from the Mjölnir, and now that the war hammer had declared his protection upon her he was sure to stay far off.

"Make sure no one makes it past the line. No one."

She could only assume that it meant that S.H.I.E.L.D had also secured a radius around a part of the portal. But when it was Thor who moved, she snapped back into reality.

"You're going ?" she muttered.

"I have to," he said softly, his big hands very carefully smoothing her hair. "For you."

"Be careful," Jane murmured. "Promise me to be careful."

The U.S army could fire their deadliest missile at him and he would still come out without as much as a scratch. She was being foolish, but each time he went outside, each time he stepped out into that world which used to be hers but was now so distorted it bordered on the unrecognizable, she felt pangs of worry. He laughed, lifting her hands to kiss her knuckles, mirroring that court gesture with which he had wished to depart Asgard a lifetime ago in the desert of New Mexico.

"Thank you," she acknowledged his silent accord to her plea. "Thank you."

"I will see you soon," he told her.

He was slipping thorough her fingers. The hammer had began humming and she knew it was about to take him away from her.

Tony approached, harbouring her from the small debris and dust which rose as Thor departed. Tack, tack, tack, as little stones hit his armour; tack, tack, tack, as Thor retired thus allowing her audience with his frenetic brother.

In the end, all the dirt, the ashes of what once was, reached her lungs and she bent forward, resting her hands on her knees and coughing loudly.

"Are you alright ?" he questioned.

"Not asthma," she coughed back, switching back to a standing position. "Don't worry."

"Good. Let's get this sample, I have other things to do today."

Thor was gone, Hill was glued to a two-way radio, and she was in the care of some agents. An impenetrable wall of flesh and bone, they did not let her out of their sight. Whenever she took a step to the right, so did they; if she breathed, their chests heaved in response.

Ahead, she could see Tony, the helmet yet not covering his face, as he made the final preparations. They were some miles away from the portal, but its energy sent everyone's hair flying, to say the least. And so, they had taken refuge behind a collapsed building. It partially blocked the strong wind.

It made sense why they would not assent to her demand to near it.

"I'm going !" Stark waved at her. "Be ready when I'm done, we're not going back if we later discover that this one's no good."

"Okay !" she cried back.

They had brought her laptop. The poor device was aligned with the rest of the equipment. Endless cables covered the ground, entwined, tight knots making her trip. Crouching, she pulled it into her lap, carefully peering above to witness the portal and its impressive tear in Earth's atmosphere. The readings were fluctuating, going mad. First, the energy jumped, then somehow disappeared, and made itself known anew instants later. The meridional flow alone had gone so wild she abandoned all endeavours to make sense of it. Nothing was clear. The jumble of information was almost too much for her brain to untangle.

But she didn't have to. That wasn't why she was here for.

Someone offered her protective glasses and she took them gladly. With no dust limiting her vision, she could freely observe the Iron Man as he flew towards the blue light. He kept close to the ground, sometimes going in circles, sometimes stopping completely, but always in the end resuming his course.

When Loki had first opened the portal, he had used the tesseract to do so. The cube, thrust into an implement of Erik's making, had been unleashed manually. By primitive logic, without its source the gateway could not be. Yet, he had mastered its power and learned of a way to retract the valuable acquisition from the public eye while keeping its child alive. From the photographs she had been shown, Jane could recall some sort of staff resembling Loki's firmly inserted into the pavement and sustaining the portal. He had planted the same one in Sweden. Those were copies of his favoured weapon. Somehow, they were channelling the tesseract and could not be approached or touched. This had been learned the hard way; the sacrifice being lives of men devoted to the common good.

Sampling energy had an odd sound to it. In sorts, it was a rough draft, a general picture for those who did not understand physics as they did. Tony was going to capture abiotic components of the energy wave, and hopefully some would turn out to be new discoveries. Revelations of another, different world. Charades to make sense of for them, conventional realities to Aesir; those little traces of _magic_ could come to be their saving.

Tony could no longer be seen. Jane turned on three of the cameras installed along the boundary of the area he was now supposedly occupying.

At least, if a meeting with Loki would not happen they would nevertheless gain profitable data.

The square at the bottom showed Stark blasting a path through remains. She sighed in relief; he was alright. But soon the image wobbled and however desperately she was fighting the system to keep it clear, the interferences triumphed and the screen went blank.

"I've lost him," she raised her voice. "He's gone, I can't see him."

"Have you tried overriding ?" Hill asked, now kneeling next to her.

Jane nodded furiously. "Yes. Nothing."

"We wait ten minutes then he's on his own."

"But Tony-"

"Is on a clock, Miss Foster," Hill retorted. "Get ready to leave."

Deep down, she knew it to be a tactful scheme. This was all about her being sheltered from danger. Tony would do a better job coming back without the constant buzz of the transmitter in his ear; Hill and her crew, armed to the teeth, were too no naked, defenceless infants thrown in the middle of a clash. Contrarily, she would trail behind and demand supervision and care which then could slow the group down and make it vulnerable. This was all for her. This whole plan was about her exposed self, unaware of how to duck out of the line of fire.

She appreciated it, but nevertheless could not subdue the budding disquiet and anxiety.

"Seven minutes, everyone," Hill announced.

Jane bit at her lips. This was it. There was not going to be another occasion to get outside. What was going to happen to Erik ? To her ? Would the harassment go on, the mental torture persist ?

_Tony fix a camera_, she besought, _I need more time._

The portal was beginning to misbehave. It occurred periodically, and during those fits S.H.I.E.L.D usually passed the request for everyone not to waste any energy. It also meant that Thor had to head out and spend most of the day powering the hurdles, also known as the grand absorbers, some of Tony's primitive designs now in flesh and blood, that kept the base relatively free from harm. She never learned where exactly those were located.

_Consider it what you wish: a proposition, a command._

He was giving her the choice of meeting with him. He could have pressed that cold staff of his to her heart and drain her will, chain her mind to his, but he hadn't. Perhaps, a puppet wasn't as efficient. One needed but glance at Erik Selvig once to be made aware of the fact.

But no, Jane shook her head, this was no offer. He had afflicted pain to make his intentions known, and had resorted to blackmail so very naturally. It was yet another cruel trick. The man had no morals.

"Five minutes. Start packing."

The wind whipped at her face more fiercely now. Jane grimaced as a small rock collided against her cheek and fell away, leaving behind an aching, burning trail. Running her fingers along it, she felt a little blood escaping from where the skin had been prickled.

Nothing from Tony or Thor.

Thor would be fine. While distress for his well-being refused to be ignored, it was not strong. He ground to powder the skulls of the Chitauri - they would not injure him.

_Bam !_

Jane's hand clamped against her mouth. The lid of the laptop just came down. She hadn't touched it. Looking around, decidedly keeping the protective glasses from flying away, she noticed the predicament had not be singular. Maria Hill was struggling with the way her hair kept obstructing her view and the effort to get a car's engine going. Other agents, the two assigned especially to her included, were dealing with similar complications.

Someone shouted something about how it was better to leave now, and if Hill nodding furiously was an indication of anything they were going to follow that piece of advice.

Jane got up her feet and was immediately knocked down.

A shout. "Watch out !"

A wrenched, agony-filled, wail.

She couldn't see a thing. Forehead pressed against the ground, she could but hear – her name, instructions; simple, terrified outcries. Move, her mind whispered, you've got to move. Palms scrapping against layers of rocks and dust and all kinds of debris, Jane blindly grappled around. She had to find something, anything, _anyone_. In the middle of the pit where the equipment had been laid out, she had suddenly been isolated from the rest of the group.

People were still screaming and she did not know why. Panic had become a second nature. It took control, ordered her body around. Like an automaton, Jane threw away the glasses – those had been damaged, and the shattered glass was scrapping at her face.

Oh God, the thought occurred to her, what if this was a Chitauri attack ? But how – _why_ ? The perimeter was supposed to be secure ! And if it wasn't then it meant that Thor-

Thor.

What had happened to him ? Why wasn't he coming back ? Why couldn't she see anyone ?

"Leave him behind !" She heard. "He's meat, nothing we can do !" And then her name. "Miss Foster !"

Hill. Cliches aside, she had never been so glad to hear the woman's voice.

"I'm here !" she shouted. "I can't see you, there's too much dust !"

As a matter of fact, it was getting difficult to breathe, and she knew it wasn't her asthma acting up. Dry, violent coughs were wrecking everyone's lungs.

She suddenly remembered Hill's words; someone had died. This was a genuine attack.

"I'm where I was before !"

"Of course you are."

Cold hands on her shoulders. A nauseating, overpowering feeling.

Total blindness.

She was gone.

* * *

Next chapter, lots of Loki.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,  
For I would ride with you upon the wind,  
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,  
And dance upon the mountains like a flame.

Are you dancing yet, Jane ?"

The sense of reality was absent still. Robbed of clear perception, for the time being free of consternation, she both listened to what he had to say and gawked at what he had to offer.

"Midgard isn't without talent," he was saying. "I am fond of that one man's work. Pretty, pretty verses he created."

Perhaps this was magic, or perhaps the insanity of the last couple of months had finally caught up with her, but the feeling of dread at last decided to lay at her feet as an obedient dog.

How fitting Yeats's words now were. This reeked of fairyland, but something was amiss. The clever deception caressed and pulled her in further and she followed, allowing, encouraging, fascination to rise.

It was hard to ignore the view of the glimmering gold. Light that was not light and that came from nowhere jumped from it, embraced her entire frame, and greeted her eyes – but did not burn, did not give warmth. That blazing, as though moonlit, way stretched out so far she could not discern an end.

This was not Midgard. This was not her Earth. It could not be.

"What is it ?" she spoke very quietly, afraid of shattering the illusion yet deep down wishing to do so. This was unnatural and the scientist in her disliked her mind being tricked. "Where did you take me ?"

When his hands had fallen on her shoulders back at the barricade in New York, she had not had the time to be surprised. It was true that she was expecting him, and an equally valid assumption that he would not discuss the matter at hand in front of all. While initial shock and surprise were natural, a bewilderment so lasting was out of the ordinary. But then again, circumstances had called for it.

They had disappeared into the darkness, and she had felt a little sick to the stomach, but the feel of him always holding her was somewhat a comforting one. She wouldn't be lost in whatever dimension they'd been crossing as he had teleported them. At least, not alone.

She had expected a tower of sorts, a great view as Loki appreciated grandness and worshipped lavishness almost as much as power. She even had come to terms with the possibility of him bringing her to a whole different country – he was a god, he could do anything.

The view, she did get.

It was her reality that had escaped them.

She shook her head, moved her arms around wildly. If this was some sort of illusion then maybe she could distort it with frantic movements. But nothing shifted, no elements of the decor altered to the point of queerness, and she took a few steps back.

_Clang, clang, clang_, as her boots hit the gold beneath her feet. This was no delusion.

"Gjallarbrú," Loki told her.

He was wearing his Asgardian attire. Not the great armour and the odd horns-adorned helmet, but the green and black tunic which while simple remained impressive. She felt wind hit her back, and as it did so his cape performed a little dance.

"We're on the bridge to what you know as Hell, Jane." He smiled very slowly at her. "Do you like what you see ?"

"Here," she stuttered, "out of all the places, why are we _here _?"

He shrugged as though the question was childish, unworthy of his attention and perhaps it was. But then she recalled that it was he who had invited her to talk, and as the conceding party she was entitled to answers.

"If I lock you up in a room, will you not pick the lock ?" Loki said before she could talk. "If I seal the door with magic, will you not conjure some device to reach out to your friends ? Will you not try to break the wall or – for you are brave – yourself ? I can clean up blood, but not inspire life.

"And," he was continuing, "will Thor not search earth and sky in hopes of finding you ? Here, he cannot reach you. Here, no one can."

"What do you mean ?"

The talk of the madman was heavy in its composure. He spoke with no emotions, and all was trivial to him. His brother's sorrow, her own fright and amazement – they all were unimportant, and his declarations alone mattered. If she arched an eyebrow, his face contorted into a grimace. She was to listen, she was not to interrupt.

"The entry is guarded and only those without life can set foot beyond it. I, on the other hand, can appear wherever without permission. Without the Bifrost, Thor is condemned to Midgard and there he is a worthy threat. But not here – never here. Not even Odin can pass for while he is the All-Father, the rules remain. Only the dead walk this bridge, Jane Foster."

"Gjallarbrú," she tried to mimic the way his jaw had moved, slightly dropped. "Oh God..."

Gjallarbrú. On the last syllable the tip of the tongue came crashing against the front teeth. As well, it had to lightly roll to create the fitting sound. Gjallarbrú. She wasn't sure how to pronounce the beginning; with the end, there was no struggle. If she repeated it enough times, then her mind would cease hurting over the impossibility of the situation.

"Cease this," he snapped at her, features at last giving away. Paint was added, shadows quickly claimed home the territories which lightly folded as he frowned in annoyance. "This is a lot for your primitive specie to take in, but contain yourself."

She didn't know what to say. Truthfully, there was nothing to interject. She could start yelling and forcing demands upon him, but would he listen ? No, he would not. Jane opted for staring at his chest.

"Have you given thought to my proposition ?"

Proposition ? What a bizarre way of phrasing it. There was no offer, no present, no just salary for efforts he requested of her. Merely a fleeting promise of doing no future harm to a man she cared about.

She nodded, however. Because it was all she could do, because there was nothing else left. "Yes."

"Good girl." His grin spread with terrifying haste; it made her cringe.

Jane was quick to cut his satisfaction short. "I'll need something in return."

The snarl didn't disappear. Instead, Loki began walking towards her. She would have run, but there was nowhere she could hide. Besides, she had sought meeting with him. Sucking it up, Jane forced herself to look him in the eye.

"I want the hostages to be set free, and no harm to come to Erik."

"No."

"Then I'm not helping."

The exchange happened too quickly for her to actually be proud of the display of nerve. It seemed, he did not expect an outcome of the sort and was for a while frozen in contemplation. His eyes ran over her, lingering an instant too long for liking at her throat.

She took the opportunity to watch him, really watch him for the first time. Her previous observations had been limited to photographs and video segments, and their shocking encounters came back in a blurry haze. He was so much taller than her, and so different from Thor. A neutral face on which could be painted the sweetest, sincerest emotion with the great skill of a liar; dark hair well-combed for someone leading a war; and thin, thin lips which kept getting even thinner as he thought over her boldness.

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and clipped. "You may choose one."

She found herself rubbing the sore spot at the back of the head where he had injured her. Suddenly, it had begun to ache.

"Well, I'm sure that trying to convince you to let both of them go will be useless," she said, and softly laughed; it was laced with sadness.

"You are smart," he replied in that mocking tone which made her feel like an insect next to him.

"Then I want Steve Rogers."

She said that on one breath, afraid that if she didn't get the decision out quickly enough it might melt on her tongue. The look it earned her was so accusatory and derisive, she burned under it.

Loki lit up, her little affirmation as though the opportunity he'd been waiting to jump upon.

"The good Captain, eh ?" he murmured, the grin upon his lips too deranged to look at. "Not the lady ?"

Jane neither answered or looked at him, her feet suddenly a far more appealing sight.

When the silence became too heavy, condemning her supposed wrongdoing, she caved.

"I'm thinking about the cause," she whispered, almost shyly. "A genetically enhanced soldier will be a better helper than a professional spy."

"Fair enough," she heard him say. But though the admission of her logic seemed genuine, Jane could still feel the sharp edge of blame underneath. She had to be careful and walk only where the ground was visible; should she step on one layer of grass too thick it would cut her like glass as it hid under it.

For now, she was hurting enough.

"Alright." She exhaled, and prayed a little with her courage to return full-force. It was much needed. "Can I see him ?"

Loki nodded, and before she could comprehend had walked so close she could feel the cold emanating from him.

He seized her quickly, and an unsuppressed yelp escaped her as he did so. Jane pushed a little against him, but the glare he gave her spoke volumes and she quietened.

His lips moved only a little as darkness returned and the gold-paved bridge to Hell disappeared from view.

Luckily, it didn't last long and this time no nausea greeted her as their destination was reached. Her surroundings were so normal, she might have wept. There was a desk, and an immense table; burgundy curtains partially sheltered the regency-long windows from the harsh light the outside was attacking with. He let go of her as though she carried the plague, but otherwise remained unmoved.

"What will I tell S.H.I.E.L.D ?" _What will I tell Thor._

_I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but you can take care of yourself. Erik can't. And Steve Rogers wouldn't have been set free otherwise. I'm so, so, so sorry... Please look after Erik. I promise I was lying. I won't help him. Stay where you are, fight for everyone out there. Don't sacrifice this little advantage I gained you for me..._

She would have told this to Thor in a heartbeat. But he wasn't here, now was he ? And she didn't even know if Loki would allow her to return. Would he lock her up in some lab ? Use her as one might a competition horse until she broke, and then shoot her ?

"I'm sure you will come up with something," Loki assured her, false sympathy leaking out of every word.

Jane blinked. Then blinked some more. "Wait, what-"

"You wanted to see the Captain so I am taking you to see the Captain," he put an end to her wondering. "Come."

He left without sparing her a second glace, his gestures fluid and pace quick. She stumbled a little as she followed him, and though her eyes longed to glide over the walls, the paintings covering them – anything really that might serve in locating where Loki resided – but she had to choose. And she chose catching up with him.

Everything was quiet, and only his boots, tips of which were graced with metal, scrapped against the ground and sent a resonating echo throughout the place. It haunted her. He could so easily kick her, and she'd probably bleed to death. Just then, they neared a hallway and a third figure joined them. A shadow at first, it quickly materialized into a Chitauri soldier and Jane bit back a cry. The thing paid her no heed and soon left.

"So easily frightened," Loki chuckled next to her. "Thor really is-"

"Don't," she interfered unexpectedly. "Don't bring your brother into this."

"Yet feisty," he finished the thought which had been interrupted in the middle. She would never hear it in its entirety. It was better this way.

The question had been battling with her for a long time now, and its assault had just doubled in intensity. Unable to quell its determination to gain freedom, Jane found herself asking, "Am I going back ?"

"Of course."

Again, it took her by surprise. "What do you mean ? I thought you wanted...I don't know what you want anymore."

He stopped. So did she, except Jane almost collided with his tall frame. Loki turned around, gently looking down at her, one hand coming to rest against her cheek.

"You'll be my eyes, won't you dear Jane ?" he spoke softly, and his breath tickled her nose. "And ears, and that pretty mouth of yours will also sing for me."

She slapped his hand away.

This was too much. She did not know how to handle this. Jane had spent countless nights imagining what would occur, and scenarios one gruesomer than the previous had wildly unfurled in her mind. But this was something that, though thought of, was impossible to accept. She did not want to be branded a cur and traitor. Not even if the title was a formality of sorts as she served under the terrorist, but lied to him with every breath.

"Don't waste your voice," Loki suddenly said and the door before them slid to the side.

A glass both met and restrained her. Behind it, sitting on some old rag, was Steve Rogers. As always, he was a great sight but she knew better. That facade of indifference existed merely to deny the satisfaction of showing that he was in pain. He moved, and she saw his face. It was covered in sweat and blood, the two sometimes mixing and dripping down on he ground, now a tiny couple.

"Oh no, oh no," she murmured again, and again, and again until her throat turned raw.

She was almost glued to the glass, but he seemed oblivious to he presence, and even as she repeated his name like a sacred mantra, he went on ignoring her.

"What did you do to him !" Jane growled, twirling on her heels to face Loki. "He's not even looking at me !"

Loki moved his hands in opposite sides, physically demonstrating and feigning innocence. "He can nor see or hear you. A little magic goes a long way." He cocked his head to the side, studying her. "Really Miss Foster, I thought you more intelligent."

And if she was entirely honest with herself, Jane even felt daft. She wanted to collapse in a pile on the floor and just bury her face in her hands. She was tired, afraid, and despite everything so terribly alone. The reality she had grown up with was slipping away, and the one replacing it urged madness to tag along.

She should have at least thought of this being a two-way mirror. She was loosing her touch.

"I get it," Jane spoke after a moment when she could trust her voice. "Let him go now."

"As my lady wishes," Loki courtly acquiesced, and even bowed a little.

And just like that, as his eyes fell on the heavily-breathing, imprisoned man, Steve Rogers disappeared. She had the time to note his look of confusion as he stared at his hands, and then around – but then he really was gone.

She didn't care if she looked like an idiot as she pressed her forehead against the glass to gain a better view, nor did she pay much attention to the loud chuckle behind her. This display of magic was both terrifying and titillating. They could do so much – so much _good_ – with it if they could only master it. They had to come up with something similar first, though.

"Where did you send him ?" she demanded. "To the headquarters ?" Jane sincerely hoped so.

His laugh shattered whatever little faith she had in him. "Not exactly."

"Oh my God !" she shrieked. "Why can't you honour at least one agreement ! You promised Loki, you promised me ! I agreed to help if you -"

"I believe a walk will do him good."

She didn't press the matter further. Perhaps he had lied, but she didn't have the strength to plunge head first into a new, heated argument. For what seemed the longest minute of her life, she stayed very still as he refused to turn his eyes away.

"Why did you need for me to get outside ?" Jane asked at last. "You can teleport wherever you wish and erase camera footage. Why not just get me there ?"

"Wine ?" he said instead, and for a third time blackness ate away at her surroundings.

Third time wasn't the charm. Jane felt faint, dizzy even, and luckily there was a chair nearby to collapse upon.

Apparently, teleporting without touching the person performing the act left the other one sick.

The glass he had somehow filled without her noticing was offered to her. While at first she was reluctant to accept, eventually Jane convinced herself that nothing could go worse and gulped down hungrily the old drink. It smelled good, but was bitter. Burning a little, it cascaded down her throat and warmed her stomach.

She didn't even care about what room they were in now. He could have taken her to Paris and she wouldn't have blinked an extra time.

"You will start your work as soon as I order you to," Loki told her. "But for now you will return."

"Return," Jane traced the word with her mouth. It felt good and right. "You're not afraid I might tell everyone about this ?"

He sat in the chair next to her; she shifted to get away from his shadow.

"And watch your mentor die ?" he enquired. "No Jane, you will not do that."

"But let's suppose for one moment," she protested, now actually leaning forward and drawing shapes in the air, "that I do throw selfishness aside and think of the greater good. The death of one man in no ways equals the downfall of a whole race, and if me speaking means even a slight possibility that we can bring you down... Well, you get the point."

"More than half of the party is dead."

"What ?"

Her head snapped up. With shaky hands, Jane set the empty glass on the floor.

"What do you mean ?" she asked in a matching, wobbly voice. "What did you just say ?"

"Thank you for bringing everyone outside, Jane," Loki smiled. "It's much easier to attack there than within those thick walls of yours."

She couldn't think, couldn't even breathe properly, and was that another asthma attack she was feeling creeping close ? Jane clenched at her hair, tore at it until a bit of it came out and reverently waltzed with her frantic gasps, at last hitting the floor.

"How many ?" she stuttered. "Tell me how many."

"I do not like your way of thinking," Loki affirmed, and there his hand was before her, going down to pick up the glass she was ignoring. "Some more ?" She didn't respond. "You know, I have to admit that I am wary of Thor remembering some of the lessons we had as children. He was taught magic, Jane. Never excelled at it, though. I am however sure that he can sense you. And," he gripped her chin, "you need to think."

Nothing he was saying fell into the category of the rational. Jane wanted to cry, but to do so in front of him would mean admitting defeat and become his puppet not only physically but mentally as well. She hit him hard, her nails scratching at the skin of his wrist as they passed by it, and she got up on her feet.

"They died !" Jane screamed, the pretence of control long gone. "People died because of me."

"You need to think," he said anew, taking her hands in his. "Somewhere Thor can't feel you."

"Don't touch me !"

His hands dripped blood, but as he refused to let go, she understood that so were hers. They both had marred, iron-scented flesh.

_Somewhere Thor can't feel you._

"No, no, no, Loki !" Jane struggled against him, pleaded, almost got down on her knees. "Don't take me back there !"

Gold. The sickening gold welcomed her with an open embrace, and her knees collided with its hard surface.

"Loki, Loki, _Loki _!" she yelled. "Don't leave me here alone !"

Her entreaties were empty; she was appealing to him only because the need to survive pushed her towards such a shaming act. But he did kneel next to her, though did not touch her which shattered her hope.

"You will think," he murmured, "and you will calm down. I do not need a hysterical, little girl."

"Loki-"

"Sit upon the Gjallarbrú, Jane Foster. Look down; witness what death represents – and know that no one can take you away but me. You are lost to Thor here."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Panic didn't last. It never did. After a while, rationality took over.

She did not venture too far away, did not dangle her legs off the edge of the great bridge. Hell was literally lapping at her feet. Was this the pit of Satan so many were afraid of ? It did not even burn.

But at least she could think. The gold was warm under her hands; it supported her head nicely as she lay down upon it. There was no sky to stare at, so to speak. Just an infinite forever. A disarray of colours, and stars, and particles she had no name for. They danced through the air, always taunting her vision and curiosity, but never allowing themselves to be captured and examined. In the end, she enjoyed the sight of the unknown.

She thought of Thor, of Loki's words, of what everyone was thinking back on Earth. Had they sent a search party for her or had she been gracelessly declared a piece of meat by Hill ? Had Thor refused to believe such words ?

Did he truly have magic of his own ? Then, why not use it ?

It made sense for him to possess at least some magical capabilities. He and Loki had been brought up together, shared a roof and, most probably, education. But maybe it was limited to him wielding control of the Mjolnir. That it never had been his forte was, however, evident. Much to her regret. All of this made one wonder.

This was amazing; the grandeur of what no one else would ever see stole Jane's breath away. And for a moment everything else was gone. No fear, no fretfulness over an injured man's life, and certainly no regret. It was a gift – of sorts. Another anathema with a pretty ribbon around it. She had no equipment to analyze this new word, nothing to hold samples except for her fine jacket. There were pockets she could stuff, but either way bringing home a piece of the bridge was outside of the range of the possible. She'd break her nails, bloody her fingers, trying. But she did have something: Jane Foster had her memory. Therefore, she looked; taking in as much as she could, blinking only when her eyes ran dry.

Erik's book spoke of a guardian, a giant being going by the name of Madgud. So far there were no sightings of the maiden guardian. Loki would never risk giving himself away in that manner. He wouldn't drop her too close to someone who would report his presence the very next instant. And so there was only one question left: was she closer to the entry of the bridge or its final destination – Hell ?

She didn't think. Simply got up and started walking. Ahead, always ahead, to where there was no wind coming from. It made sense for a place filled with death to have no concept of meteorology. The scientist in her refused to give into procrastination while motionlessly awaiting the end of the exile. Not while there was so much to discover.

Jane walked until her feet hurt and then some more. But there was no conclusion to this golden tale, no prize to behold. Perhaps, gods travelled faster than humans; perhaps what for her was an endless journey for them was a trip of a day's length.

"Curious about the netherworld ?"

Why, why _this_ place ?

"Well, why not ?" she called back.

Loki was silent. In his movements, in his magic. Everything about him was quiet and cunning. She turned around to see him standing still, hands clasped behind his back as the hem of his cloak caressed the ground. Underneath it, his tunic shone emerald. Gold against green. The contrast blinded her, forced her eyes to close for a moment too long.

"It would be the other way around," Loki pointed out.

"Let's go then."

"No I don't think so, Jane."

He neared her, a reluctant hand fell on her shoulder. Again, he was making no effort to hide his disgust at touching her.

"Are we going back ?" Jane asked.

"Are you calm ?" he returned the question.

"More than you'd prefer."

He did arch an eyebrow at her answer but she chose not to elaborate upon it. The Gjallarbrú did have a nice effect on people who visited it: despite of being the getaway to Hell, it soothed one's mind. Or maybe it was just her. Nevertheless, it did not matter.

Jane did not flinch as he teleported them back to Earth. Nor did she lose her neutral face as the aftermath – the dreadful envy to empty her stomach – hit. Once more, Loki stared. Looking into space was something he did often. A lot of times, instead of actually paying attention to his interlocutor, he would opt for examining a spot of transparent air. But now was not one of those times. He was _seeing_ her, in no way playing the card of false courtesy as one who adored deceit might.

"I believe the saying is," he began, "_a penny for your thoughts_."

Jane laughed a little. "My thoughts ? There is nothing interesting about them."

"Really, now ?" he pushed. "Nothing at all ?"

"I am fascinated by your world. Is it something worthy of your interest ?"

"Hardly."

She still shook. A little, oh, only a little, but still. There was no forgetting the explosion, the warmth of fresh blood, the cries for help. No forgetting that she was the puppet behind the small massacre. The title of the culprit would not be denied in her mind. It was she who brought everyone outside – it was she who was responsible for whatever deaths had occurred. But with him she had to play _smart_.

There would be time to claw or cry her eyes out. There would be time to bang her head against the wall and let guilt gnaw at her soul.

"Take me back," Jane said.

They were once again in that lavish room of his. Long curtains, and a grand view offered by ceiling-high windows. The chair she had previously occupied coyly mocked her, beckoned her tired body to ease into it and never get up. But she didn't budge and steeled her legs, squared her shoulders. Loki was watching her with detached amusement. It wasn't her that he was seeing; his look was not one bestowed upon a human being. No, it was as though she, Jane Foster, was an intriguing element of the decor; a tile not quite placed right, a piece of wood too dark to blend in with the rest of the mahogany.

"Such a quick change," he said slowly.

Quick. Just as he was with changing moods.

She nodded. "I had time to calm down. You left me there for what, two, three hours ?"

"Something of the sort."

"A second for you. Not so much for me."

"Very well, Jane Foster." A smile crept back to his lips. He regained his usual composure of a madman. "Where do you desire to go ? I can take you anywhere," Loki added.

Anywhere. She could go there. But not now.

Instead, she asked him, "Where is Steve Rogers ?"

He frowned. "Rummaging through remains, most probably. He is no concern of yours."

"But he is. Take me to him."

"Ever the benevolent soldier, are you not ?" he teased her. "And why leave so soon ?"

"Because you're not agreeable company."

He broke the silence with a laugh guffaw. Jane felt her heart stop and restart, noticed her features shifting from professionally impassive to startled as an old vase reflected them. And as he calmed down and leaned into her small shadow, invaded her space, his last frantic exhalation tickled her nose.

His hand then rose to her face, the back of it lightly caressing her flushed cheeks. She tried drawing away but he caught her neck, long fingers deftly sliding downwards from it. Over her shoulders they went, lingered on the collarbone, traced a pathway from elbow to palm. And then he was simply holding her hand in his, bestowing an odd kind of embrace.

"This is a fine ring," he said. "Small yet not lacking in elegance."

It was one her mother had given her years ago. A plain gold band she wore on the engagement finger. It was either too small or large to fit on any other. As the artificial light hit the surface, a flare got reflected right into her eyes and Jane blinked.

"It is, yes," she agreed, her voice hoarse. "A gift." There was no need for further elaborations.

Loki nodded, an aura of false admiration oozing from him. "Of course."

He never took it from her. Touching it once – and very lightly at that – did the trick. She saw a glowing overtake the metal, bask the piece of jewelry in magic. _Magic_. It couldn't be anything else. And as it returned to its previous state, Loki stepped away from her. Just like that, their previous closeness got erased from history. Jane tried taking it off, the unknown of it all suddenly a burden too heavy, but failed. It wouldn't budge, not an inch.

Her mouth opened but he closed it with a finger. A cold lock sealing her lips together. "A little magic. I must know where you are."

"Is this some sort of Asgardian way to create a GPS, a tracking device ?" The sentence would have been hilarious in any other context. Now, however, Jane had no heart left for laughter.

"A GPS," he repeated. "Interesting. Yes, I suppose so. Amongst other things."

"What is this ?" she demanded to know. "And why did you take me there ? To your world ? Don't try the 'so Thor couldn't feel you' crap; we both know he's everything but a sorcerer." Suddenly, there wasn't enough time for her questions. They wanted to come out – all at once.

"That, dear, is a story for another time."

"A penny for your thoughts ?" she challenged him, imitating the very words which had left his lips once before.

"It would cost more than a penny."

With a smile from a Norse god burning in her memory, she was gone.

* * *

It was an awful irony, this life of Jane's. She was always disappearing, always fading into darkness when the answer was just peeking around the corner.

Ruins. Miles and miles of those. Smoke colouring the sky and not-yet dried blood perfuming the streets. It's all she could perceive. Jane looked at the ring Loki had enchanted. It did not shine; nor did it help her in any way. Calling out was no option. There could be Chitauris. Bile rose in the throat at the simple thought of encountering one while all alone. She would last what, one, two seconds ? Sticking to the shadows seemed like a reasonable plan. Soon, Jane was jumping over crushed stone, coughing as dust entered her airways. Moving, always moving. That's what she had to do. Because when she stopped, she actually started thinking. And doing so brought dread. Everything around her reeked of death. Being the sole survivor was no comforting fate.

There was, of course, also the matter of how exactly she was supposed to get back. She did not know, per se, where the headquarters were. Of course, there was the distorted image of an old building with heavy metal doors behind its walls, in her mind. But how to find said building was a matter she had never contemplated. As she stumbled and fell, painfully scrapping her knees in the process, Jane came across a gun. She did not know how to shoot but this was her only way of defending herself and so she gripped it to the point of agony. The handle pleasantly dug into the raw skin of her palms. The weapon was still warm – or maybe it was her body running a temperature after all that stress. She grasped it with all her might, hoping against hope that the need to use it would never arise.

New York – and she strongly believed that Loki wouldn't have transported her anywhere else – was as she remembered it. Perhaps a bit calmer. Now that the majority of people that Loki needed dead had been put down, there were less alien patrols. Or maybe it was for her benefit. The though was awkward and made her feel even more like a traitor, but it was one Jane couldn't ignore.

He wouldn't kill her after putting on such a show. He may be mad – to some extent – but his mind was _brilliant_. A shiny diamond she would have loved to examine more closely.

A cry.

Jane froze. It was not a cry for help. One of surprise, of pain, maybe. But it had been so loud.

"Hello ?" she tried.

There it was again. Man or woman, she couldn't tell, but nonetheless sprung into a run. The sound grew louder, she was heading in the right direction. Half-burnt trees were decorating the ground, the pavement a mess of dust and destroyed stalls. She was in the Union Square. Or rather what was left of it. Jane brandished the gun, now holding it away from her chest, moving forward very slowly as she had been thought by a S.H.I.E.L.D agent.

Her heart hammered against her chest, each beat shattering her pretence of control a little more. She inhaled sharply and continued walking. Who would she be if she were to run away ?

And maybe dying wasn't such a bad thing.

Then, Loki wouldn't be able to use her. She would do no further harm. A weak determination urged her advancement until she stumbled upon a girl. A teenager, taller than her, but a teenager still. Her messy hair clung to her forehead upon which a fresh cut sat. It leaked blood, the liquid coming to lap at her mouth, getting inside each time she gasped. It wasn't as serious as it was frightening. Jane threw herself on her knees before the trembling child – and she looked so much like one, at this very moment.

"It's all right, you're all right," she murmured, somewhat shakily. She tried putting one arm around her but the girl crawled away. "I'm not going to hurt you !"

At last, she finally looked at her. Two frightened, green eyes softened upon realization that she was human.

"You're-you're not," she stuttered.

Jane shook her head. "No, I'm not. Let's get out."

Aside from the scratch, she was unharmed. It proved easy to hoist her up and in no time they were walking away. Jane preferred staying out of the clear. If they couldn't be seen then they couldn't be found. It was a strategy as efficient as any. What to do with her companion was however something she hadn't thought about. Bringing her back to S.H.I.E.L.D was not a good idea. What would they do with her ? Wipe her memory and send her off ? Something within her told her that the organization was not below it. She sneered at that.

"What happened to you ?" she asked after her breathing had returned to normal.

"One of them, it was one of them," the girl repeated like a broken record. "One of those...things."

"A Chitauri ?" Jane pressed. Silence. "One of the aliens ?"

"Yes," she nodded again and again and again like a rag doll shaken by an hysteric infant. "Then that man told me to run so I ran, but my leg is, my leg..."

The girl suddenly dug her fingers into Jane's shoulder. She was cold, absolutely frozen. And so weak. The longer they remained upright, the quicker clarity deserted her face. Jane watched it go from green to white to ashen.

This was the absolute worst spot for a picnic amongst the ruins. But she didn't have much choice. Puffing, Jane helped the girl on the rock-paved ground. She lightly slapped her cheeks, trying to keep her conscious, smearing some of the gelatinous blood. The pants she was wearing were wide-legged, the hem descending an inch or two beneath her actual feet. No wonder she was unable to run. No scissors, no nothing. Jane found a more or less sharp rock and began the task of transforming the black trousers into shorts. The rock worked its magic on the right and she moved on to the left when-

Jane pulled her hands away. They were stained. The pants were stained. With hot blood. A gushing wound stared at her through the ripped fabric and it was deep, so deep, a butchered cut right to the bone. Had it been the result of a last, halfhearted attack of a dying Chitauri ? Robbed of his staff but not deprived of a bar of rusty metal ?

Puissant disbelief annihilated her analytical mind. This wasn't fair, this should have never happened. How old was she, really ? Seventeen, eighteen at most ? She had a name and probably a family. Maybe a puppy that had been evacuated and now was waiting for Sarah -Jenny, Lily, Sophie, Christina – to cuddle with.

The girl oviously felt the pain but wasn't _registering_ it. She sat in the dirt and dust, panting, looking in the distance.

It was better this way.

Jane swallowed five times before being able to lie convincingly. She covered the girl's lap with her own jacket – thankfully of a dark color – and squatted very close to her.

She was going to bleed dry before long.

"So," Jane said and her voice wasn't quivering, "I think we'll be safe here for now."

Too dazed to understand that no, actually, they would not be, the girl murmured, "Yeah."

"You're going to have to get some sleep soon or you'll collapse."

"Yes..."

"Tell me, who was that man you were talking about ?"

He was tall and had pale hair. Or maybe he was pale and it's his hair that was...The conflicted testimony got odder and odder as each minute painfully ticked by. Jane didn't really listen either. She could only keep her eyes glued at the poodle of blood around the poor child which was extending to her.

"I think I'll sleep now."

The instant her eyes closed, Jane cradled her like a babe. Did she still have a pulse or was it her own resonating through her inert body ? Something inside her jacket pocked her in the chest. A passport.

Melissa.

Jane put it back. Kissed the warm forehead of a corpse and ran. Ran because she knew that a moment longer and she would have stayed behind. Her family deserved the truth, her mother didn't have to learn about her daughter's disappearance through a listing of missing people. Those people didn't deserve false hope and certainly not the fatal blow when the body was finally found and delivered back in a wooden box. Jane alone knew the truth.

And it would never be spoken.

She dragged herself into an old building and pressed her face into the wall. Then, she just screamed into the uncaring rock. Dirt, salt, dust, blood, sadness. Everything mingled together to create a cocktail of agony. She battled her fists against the stony surface. And to think that some hours ago Death had been so beautiful.

The ring on her finger winked at her through the darkness; light kissed it and, preferring her face to the gold, jumped upon it. Had there been a knife, she would have chopped her hand off. An eternal remembrance of Loki, this was. An eternal souvenir of the girl who died because he started a useless war.

Her last sob transformed into a cough and despite the urge to crawl into a corner, Jane forced herself to peek outside. She needed fresh air. But then, as soon as her lungs savored the delight, she was slammed back inside.

For a moment, she couldn't feel at all because everything hurt too much. Her head wound from the encounter with Loki in the laboratory gave birth to a splintering headache. The world went white, then sparkling, and came back to be only after a voice broke though the fog. The words weren't clear but the face was. She even recognized the pink, albeit cracked and dry, mouth shouting them.

Steve Rogers. And Steve Rogers was furiously barricading the entrance while entreating her to get up and do the same. Slowly, she rolled to the side. When no dizziness came, Jane risked getting back on her feet.

"...doing here ?" a parcel of his rant reached her. "...was evacuated."

Still a little lost, she did what little she could do: pushed a half broken chair next to the impressive commode Rogers had the time to fetch. This must have been an antique store.

So much good it did.

The Chitauri broke the first defense – the door – with its powerful shoulder. She witnessed it, pressed against the wall, biting her finger, crash through the wood and metal, jarring and clad in armor. Then, she knew that courage was not the way out – cowardice was.

Now stable, Jane bolted from her safety spot, rushing to Rogers, and grasping his calloused hand.

"There must be a back door," she whispered.

And off they went, rummaging through the multiple rooms. She found a destroyed safe with at least a couple of grands in it. Most lay discarded on the floor. There was also a supply of ammunition – the gun to compliment the safe must have been taken by the owner. She didn't check whether they were compatible with her model and stuffed her pockets with the cartridges anyway. Jane wasn't much of a shooter but surely if an alien crept close enough she could send a bullet through its brain. From an adjacent room, she heard a cry of victory and hurried there.

"It's locked !" Steve raged. "New York's in flames and this lock still holds !"

"Don't fumble with it like a girl !" she cried. "Brace yourself and break down the door."

It was an alternative which he seemed to prefer. Tony would have asked her for a hairpin, but she supposed both methods were good.

A little too late, though.

A terrible sound of wood being crushed. The thumping of the staff. Yes, a little too late indeed. She tried firing but the chamber of the gun was empty. But really, she should have been running because the door had already been tossed aside and the cold autumn air was whipping her back.

She caught a glimpse of Steve, a yard or two away, ready to come back for her. Of the alien, now contemplating who the bigger threat was, and blocked the way with her body.

Better her than him. This had always been the plan. He would gain what, one, two minutes ? Just enough for a super soldier to get away to safety. To S.H.I.E.L.D. One more member to rejoin the Avengers. Jane closed her eyes but no blow ever came, no blast of energy ripped through her stomach. The alien stared at her arms, tightly wrapped around her middle, tried extending its own hand in her direction, and then -

And then-

Retreated.


End file.
